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^The InUrpreUr then called for a
Man-Truant of h'n, one Grcat-heail'

THE HARVARD CLASSICS

EDITED BY CHARLES W ELIOT LL D

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

BY JOHN BUNVAN
/

THE LIVES OF JOHN DONNE
AND GEORGE HERBERT

BY IZAAK WALTON

WITH INTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES
VOLUME 15

P V COLLIER & SON COMPANY
NEW YORK

Capyrlgbt, 1909
Bi P. F. CoT.i.iKB & Son

UAXnpACTimED IN V. B. A.

447498

DcBlKned, Printed^ and Bound at

CONTENTS

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
THE FIRST PART

MM

The Authot's Apology S

The Pilgkik's Pkogbess, in the SiHiUTUDe or a Dbeau 13
The Conclusion 168

THE SECOND PART

The AuTHtm's Apology , 171

The Pncsiu's Psogsess, in the Siuhttude of a Dream 179
The Authok's Vindication of his Pilgriu, Found at
THE End of his Holy War . . . .' 323

THE LIFE OF DR. DONNE 32?

THE LIFE OF MR. GEORGE HERBERT 377

HC— Vol. IB— 11

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

John Bukvan was bom at EUtow, Bedfordshire, England, i»
November, i6zS. His father was a maker and mender of pots
and kettles, and the son followed the same trade. Though be is
usually called a linker, Sunyon had a settled home and place of
business. He had Utile schooling, and he detscribes his early sar-
roHndings as poor and mean. When he was not yet sixteen his
mother died; in two months his father married again; and the
<son enlisted as a soldier in the Civil War in November, 1644,
though whether on the Parliamentary or Royalist side is not
certain. The armies were disbanded in 1646, and about two years
later Bunyan married a wife whose piety redeemed him from his
delight in rural sport and the habit of profane swearing. He be-
came much interested in religion, but it was only after a tre-
mendous spiritual conflict, lasting three or four years, that he
found peace. His struggles are related with extraordinary vivid-
ness and intensity in his "Grace Abounding to the Chief of
Sinners." In i6s5, the year in which he lost his wife, he began
to exhort, and two years later he become a regular Non-con-
formist preacher, continuing, however, to practise his trade. His
•success as a preacher roused opposition among the regular clergy,
and in 1658 he was indicted at the assises. His writing began
with a controversy against the Quakers, and shows from the first
the command of a homely but vigorous istyle.

With the reenactment of the taws against non-conformity at
the Restoration, Bunyan became subject to more severe persecu-
tion, and with a short intermission he was confined to prison
from t66o till 16^2. Again and again he might have been re-
leased, but he refused to promise to desist from preaching, and
there was no alternative for the justices but to keep him in con-
finement. Sometimes lax jaileps permitted Ai'jii to preach at
church meetings; he frequently ministered to his fellow-Prisoners;
and he supported his family, now looked after by a second wife,
by making laces. He had apparently abundant leisure, for he
wrote in prison a large number of books, the first one of im-
fortanct being that t^eady mentioned, "Craee Aboimding^'

4 INTEODUCTORY NOTE

(,1666). "The Pilsrim's Progrets" was also written in jail, but

probably during a later confinement of six monlhs i« 1675.

In t6j2 Charies I! suspended the laws against Non-conformists
and Roman Catholicis, and Bunyan aias released. He was called
to be minister to a Non-conformist congregation in Bedford, and
preached in the barn which served them as a church. But his
ministrations uiere not confined to Bedford. He made preaching
lotirs over a wide district, and even to London, and attracted
great crowds of listeners. Meanwhile he continued to write.
The first edition of "The Pilgrim's Progress" in 1678 was fol-
lowed by others with additions, and in 16S4 by the second part.
"The Life and Death of Mr, Badman" appeared in 16S0; "The
Holy War made by Shaddai upon Diabotus" in l6Si. If the
works left in manuscript at his death be included, the total of
kis books amounts to nearly sixty. He died in 1688, leaving a
widow and six children, and a personal estate of less than £100.
"The Pilgrim's Progress" became at once popular, and has con-
tinued to be by far the most widely read of all his works, and one
of the most universally known of English books. Though in the
form of an allegory, the narrative interest is so powerful, the
drawing of permanent types of human character is so 'vigorous,
and the style is so simple and direct that H takes rank os a great
work of fiction. The best sides of English Puritanism have here
their most adequate and characteristic expression, while the in-
tensity of Bunyan's religious fervor and the universality of the
spiritual problems with which he deals, raise the work to a place
among the great religious classics of the world.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

FOR HIS BOOK

^1/EN at the first I look m^ Pen in hand
Thus for lo nrite: I did nol understand
That I at all should make a little Book
In such a mode; Nay, I had undertook
To make another, urhich when almost done,
Before I ■aias aware I this begun.

And thus it was: I writing of the Way
And Race of Saints, in this our Gospel-day,
Fell suddenly into an Allegory
About their Journey, and the way to Glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down:
This done. I twenty more had in my Crown,
And they again began to multiply.
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do Ay.
Nay then, thought I, if that you breed iso fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad inAnitiun, and eat out
The Book that I already ant about.

WeU, so I did; but yet I did not think
To shew lo all this World my Pen and Ink
In such a mode; I only thought lo make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my Neighbor; no not J;
I did il mine own self to gralifie.

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my Scribble; nor did I intend
But to diverl myself in doing this
From worser thoughts which make me da amut.

Thus I set Pen lo Paper with delight.
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white.

THE AUTHOE'S APOLOGY

For havins now my Method by the end.

Still as I pHlt'd, it came; and so I penn'd

It doitm, tinlil il came at last to be

For length and breadth the bigness which you see.

Well, when I had thus pHt mine ends together,
I shev/d them others, that I might see whether
They ivontd condemn them, or Ihem justifie:
And some said. Let them live; some. Let them die;
Some said, John, print it; others said. Not so:
Some said. It might do good; others said. No.

Now was I in a straight, and did not see
Which was the best thing to be done by me:
At la^t ! thought. Since you are thus divided,
1 print it wi'i/, ami so the case decided.

For, thottsht I, some I see would have it dont.
Though others in that Channel do not run.
To prove then who advised for the best.
Thus I thought fit to pat it to the test.

I further thought, if now I did deny
Those that would have it thus, to gralifie,
I did nol know but hinder them I might
Of that which would to them be great delight.

For those which were nol for its coming forth
1 said to them. Offend yoa I am loth.
Yet since your Brethren pleased with it be.
Forbear to judge till you do further see.

If that thou wilt nol read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone:
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus Expostulate:

May I not write in such a stile as this?
In such a method too, and yet not miss
Mine end, thy gaodf why may it not be done?
Dark Clouds bring Waters, when the bright bring none.
Yea, dark or bright, if Ihey their Silver drops
Cause to descend, the Earth, by yielding Crops,
Civets praise to both, and earpeth nol al either.
But treasures «p the Fruit they yield together;
Yea, so commixes both, that in her Fruit
NoKi can distinguish this from thai: they suil

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

Her well, when hungry; but, if she be full.

She spues out both, and makes their blessings null.

You seg the ways the Fisher-man doth take
To catch the Fish; what Engines doth he maket
Behold how he engageth all his Wits,
Also his Snares, Lines, Angles, Hooks, and Nets.
Yet Fish there be, that neither Hook, nor Line,
Nor Snare, nor Net, nor Engine can make thine;
They mtist be grop'd for, and be tickled too.
Or they will wot be calch'd, whate'er yo« do.

How doth the Fowler seek to catch his Game
Sy divers means, all which one cannot namef
His Gftn, his Nets, his Lime-twigs, Light, and Belli
He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea who can tell
Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these
Will make him master of what Fowls he please.
Yea, he mtist Pipe and IVhistle to catch this;
Yet if he does so, that Bird he will miss.

If that a Pearl may in a Toad's head dwell.
And may be found too in an Oyster-shell;
If things that promise nothing do coniain
What belter is than Cold; who will disdain.
That have an inkling of it, there to look,
That they may find it? Now niji Utile Book
(Though void of all those Paintings that may makt
It with this or the other man to lake)
Is not without those things that do excel
What do in brave, but empty notions dwell.

Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,
That this your Book will stand, when soundly try'd.

Why, what's the matterT It is dark. What thof
But it is feigned: What of thai I trot
Some men, by feigning words as dark as mine,
Moke truth to spangle, and its rays to shine.
Bui they want solidness. Speak man thy mind.
They drownd the weak; Metaphors make us blind.

Solidity indeed becomes the Pen
Of him that writelh things Dii^ne to men;
But niHat I needs tuant solidness, because
By Metaphors I speakt Were not God's Laws,

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

Hu Gosfel-Laxvs, in olden time held forth

By Types. Shadowi. and Metaphors? Yet loth

Will any sober man be to find fault

With Ihem, lest he be found for to assault

The highest JVisdom. No, he rather stoo/>s.

And seeks to find ant what by Pins and Loops,

By Calves, and Sheep, by Heifers, and by Rams,

By Birds, and Herbs, and by the blood of Lambs,

God speaketh to him. And happy is he

That finds the light and grace thai in them be.

Be not loo forward therefore to conclude
That I want solidness, that I am rude:
All things solid in shew not solid be;
All things in Parables detspisc not we;
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive.
And things that good are. of our souls bereave.

My dark and cloudy words they do but hold
The Truth, as Cabinets inclose the Gold.

The Prophets used much by Metaphors
To set forth Truth; yea, whoso considers
Christ, his Apostles too, shall plainly see,
That Trutlks to this day in such Mantles be.

Atn I afraid to say tltat Holy Writ,
Which for its Stile and Phrase puis down all Wit,
Is everywhere so full of all these things.
Dark Figures, Allegories? Yet there springs
From that same Book that lustre, and those rays
Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days.

Come, let my Carper to his Life now look.
And find there darker lines than in my Book
He findeth any; Yea, and lei him know,
That in his best things there are worse lines too.

May we but stand before impartial men.
To his poor One 1 dare adventure Ten,
That they will lake my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in Silver Shrines.
Come, Truth, although in Swaddling-clouts, J find.
Informs the Judgment, rectifies the Mind,
Pleases the Understanding, makes the WiU
Submit; the Memory too it doth fill

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

With whal dolh our Imagination please;
Like-anse it tends our troubles to appease.

Sound words I know Timothy is to use.
And old IVives' Fables he is to refuse;
But yet grave Paul kim nowhere doth forbid
The use of Parables; in which lay hid
That Gold, those Pearls, and precious stones that were
Worth digging for, and thai with greatest care.

Let me add one word more. O tnan of Cod,
Art thou offendedf Dost thou wish I had
Put forth my matter in another dress.
Or that I had in things been more express?
Three things let me propound, then I submit
To those that are my belters, as is fit.

1. I find not that I am denied tlie use
Of this my method, so 1 no abuse

Put on the Words, Things, Readers; or be rude
In handling Figure or Similitude,
In application; but, all that I may,
Seek the advance of Truth this or that way.
Denied, did I sayf Nay, I have leave,
{Example too, and that from them that have
God better pleased, by their words or ways.
Than any man that breathetk now a-days}
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare
Things unto thee, that excellcnlest are.

2. / find that men (as high as Trees) will vffite
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight
For writing so; Indeed if they abuse

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use
To that intent; but yet let Truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me.
Which way it pleases God. For who knows how.
Better than he thai taught us first to Plow,
To guide our Mind and Pens for his Design?
And he makes base things usher in Divine.

3. / find then Holy Writ in many places

Hath semblance -with this method, where the cases
Do call for one thing, to set forth another;
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother

THE AUTHOR'S A1

Truth's golden Beam: nay, by this method may
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.

And now, before t do put «p my Pen,
fit shew the profit of "ty Book, and then
Commit both thet and it unto that hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand.

This Book it chalketh out before thine eyes
The man that seeks the everlasting Price;
It shews you whence he comes, whither he goes.
What he leaves undone, also what he does;
It also shews you how he runs and runs.
Till he unto the Gate of Glory comes.

It shews too, who set out for life amain.
As if the lasting Crown they would obtain;
Here also yoa may see the reason why
They lose their labour, and like Fools do die.

This Book will make a Traveller of thee.
If by its Counsel thou wilt ruled be;
it will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand:
Yea, it will make the slothful active be;
The blind also delightful things to see.

Art thou for something rare and profilablef
IVoutdest thou see a Truth within a Fable?
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember
From New-year's-day to the last of December?
Then read my Fancies, they will stick like Burrs.
And may be to the Helpless, Comforters.

This Book is writ in such a Dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:
It seems a novelty, and yet coTitains
Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains.

IVould'st thou divert thyself from Melancholy?
Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly?
Would'sf thou read Riddles, and their Explanation?
Or else be drowned in thy Contemplation?
Dost thou love picking meat? Or would'st thou see
A man i' th' Clouds, and hear him speak to thee?
Would'st thou be in a Dream, and yet not sleep?
Or would'st IhoH in a moment laugh and weep?

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY U

Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm.

And find thyself again witkout a charmT

Woald'st read thyself, and read tkou knovfst not what.

And yet know whether thou art blest or not.

By reading the same lines? then come hither.

And lay my Book, thy Head, and Heart together.

JOHN BUUVAN.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM.

AS I walk'd through the wilderness o£ this world,
I\ I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, TbeJiU
-*--*- and I laid me down in that place to sleep;
and as 1 skpt, I dreamed a Dream. I dreamed, and
behold I saw a Man cloathed with Rags, standing
in a certain place, with his face from his own
house, a Book in his hand, and a great Burden
upon his hack. I looked, and saw him open the
Book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept
and trembled : and not heing able longer fo contain,
he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying tVhalmioaKty
tkall I do?

In this plight therefore he went home, and re-
frained himself as long as he could, that his Wife
and Children should not perceive his distress, but
he could not be silent long, because that his trouble
increased: Wherefore at length he brake his mind
to his Wife and Children ; and thus he began to talk
to them: O my dear Wife, said he, and yon the Chil-
dren of my bowels, I your dear friend, am in myself
undone by reason of a Burden that Ueth hard upon
me; moreover, I am for certain informed that ifiwThi* world
our City will be burned with fire from Heaven; in
which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my
Wife, and you my sweet Babes, shall miserably come
to mine, except (the which yet I see not) some way
of escape can be found, whereby we may be ded'i'- He knows
ered. At this his Relations were sore amazed; not ^^^^"^
for that they believed that what he had said to them as yet
^ was true, but because they thought that some frenzy

13

u

PtLGRIM'S PROGRESS

distemper had got into his head ; therefore, it draw-
ing towards night, and they hoping that sleep might
settle his brains, with all haste they got him to bed :
But the night was as troublesome to him as the day;
wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs
and tears. So, when the morning was come, they
would know how he did; He told them, Worse and
worse: he also set to talking to them again, hut they
Carnal began to be hardened: they also thought to drive
physic for jiway his distemper by harsh and stirly carriaeea to
him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they
would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect
him: Wherefore he began to retire himself to his
chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also to con-
dole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily
in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes pray-
ing: and thus for some days he spent his time.

Now, 1 saw upon a time, when he was walking in
the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in
his Book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as
he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying,
IVhal shall I do to be saved?

I saw also that he looked this way and that way,
as if he would run; yet he stood still, because, as I
perceived, he could not tell which way to go. I
looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist, com-
ing to him, and asked. Wherefore dost thou cry?

He answered, Sir, I perceive by the Book in my
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to
come to Judgment, and I find that I am not willing
to do the first, nor able to do the second.

Chriiiian no saoner leaves tbe World but meets
Evangelisl, who lovingly him greets
With tidings of aoofher: and doth shew
Him how to mount to that from this below.

Then said Evangelist, Wliy not willing to die,
since this life is attended with so many evils ? The
Man answered, Because I fear that this burden that
is upon ray back will sink me lower than the Grave,
and I shall fall into Topkel, And, Sir, if I be not

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

15

fit to f o to Prison, I am not fit to go to Judgment,

and from thence to Execution; and the thoughts of
these things make me cry.

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why
standest thou still? He answered, Because I know
not whither to go. Then he gave him a Parchment-
roil, and there was written within. Fly from Ike
wrath to come.

The Man therefore read it, and looking upon
Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I fly?
Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over
a very wide field. Do you see yonder Wickct-galef
The Man said. No. Then said the Other, Do yon see
yonder shining Light? He said, I think I do. Then
said Evangelist. Keep that Light in your eye, and go
up directly thereto: so shah thou see the Gate; at
which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what
thou shalt do.

So I saw in my Dream that the Man began to run.

Now he had not run far from his own door, but
his Wife and Children, perceiving it. began to cry
after him to return ; but the Man put his fingers in
his ears, and ran on, crying. Life! Life! Eternal
Life! So he looked not behind him, but fled towards
the middle of the Plain.

The Neighbors also came out to see him run ; and
as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some
cried after him to return ; and among those that did
so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back by
force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the
name o£ the other Pliable. Now by this time the
Man was got a good distance from them; but how-
ever they were resolved to pursue him, which they
did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then
said the Man, Neighbors, wherefore are you come?
They said. To persuade you to go back with us. But
he said. That can by no means be; you dwell, said
he, in the City of Destruction, the place also where
I was born, I see it to be so; and dying there, sooner
or later, you will sink lower than the Grave, into a

Coavictiafi

of [be
oectssity
of SyinK

Christ, and

the way lo
him cannot
be found
witlioEit the
Word

They that
fly fTum
lis wiath
to come,
are a gai-
ing-siock to
the world

Obstrnafp
ard Pliable
follow him

16

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

1^

place that bums with Fire and Brimstone; be con-
tent, good Neighbors, and go along with me.

Obst. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends
and owr comforts behind us !

Chr. Yes, said Christian, for that was his name,
because that all which you shall forsake is not
worthy to be compared with a little of that that I am
seeking to enjoy; and if you will go along with me
and hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there
where I go, is enough and to spare: Come away,
and prove my words.

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you
leave all the world to find them?

Chr. I seek an Inheritance incorruptible, unde-
aied, and that fadeth not away, and it is laid up
in Heaven, and safe there, to be bestowed at the time
appointed, on them that diligently seek it. Read
it so, if you will, in my Book.

Obst. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your
Book; will you go back with us or no?

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have
laid my hand to the Plow.

Obst. Come then. Neighbor Pliable, let us turn
again, and go home without him ; there is a com-
pany of these craz'd -headed coxcombs, that,
when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser
in their own eyes than seven men that can render
a reason.

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the
good Christian says is true, the things he looks
after are better than ours; my heart inclines to go
with my Neighbor.

Obst. What! more fools still? Be ruled by me,
and go back; who knows whither such a brain-sick
fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and he
wise.

Chr. Come with me. Neighbor Pliable; there are
such things to be had which I spoke of, and many
more Glories besides, If you believe not me, read
•fcU'asoui here in this Book; and for the truth of what is

Chriatiin
and Obiti-

naie pull
for Pli-

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 17

exprest therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood
of Him that made it.

Pu, Well, Neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, 1 Pliable
begin to come to a point: I intend to go along with (^^^"J
this good man, and to cast in my lot with him : but, CbriatiBn
my good companion, do you know the way to this
desired place?

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is
Evangelist, to speed me to a little Gate that is before /-^^
us, where we shall receive instructions about the
way.

Pli. Come then, good Neighbor, let us be going.
Then they went both together.

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Ob- ObeHoate
stinate; I will be no companion of such mis-led, fan- ^'1,^^
tastical fellows.

Now I saw in my Dream, that when Obstinate Talk
was gone back. Christian and Pliable went talk- ^^^
ing over the Plain; and thus they began their and
discourse. ^^*^*

Chr. Come Neighbor Pliable, how do you do?
I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me:
Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have
felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet un-
seen, he would not thus lightly have given us the
back.

Pli. Come, Neighbor Christian, since there are
none but us two here, tell me now further what
the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we
are going?

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my Mind, God's
than speak of them with my Tongue: but yet, since Bp^^,biT
yoa are desirous to know, I will read of them in
my Book.

Pli. And do you think that the words of your
Book are certainly true?

Chr. Yes, verily; for it was made by him that / ,
cannot lye.

Pli. Well said; what things are they?

Chr. There is an endless Kingdom to be inhabited,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and everlasting Life to be given as, that we may
inhabit that Kingdom for ever,

pLi. Well said; and what else?

Can. There are Crowns of glory to be given us,
and Garments that will make us shine like the Sun
in the firmament of Heaven,

Pli. This is excellent; and what else?

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow,
for He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears
from our eyes,

Pli. And what company shall we have there?

Chr. There we shall be with Seraphims and
Cherubins, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to
look on them; There also you shall meet with thou-
sands and ten thousands that have gone before us
to that place; none of them are hurtful, but loving
and holy ; every one walking in the sight of God,
and standing in his presence with acceptance for
ever. In a word, there we shall see the Elders with
their golden Crowns, there we shall see the Holy
Virgins with their golden Harps, there we shall
Bee men that by the World were cut in pieces, burnt
in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the
love that they hare to the Lord of the place, all well,
and cloathed with Immortality as with a garment.

Pli, The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's
heart; but are these things to he enjoyed? How
shall we get to be sharers hereof?

Chb. The Lord, the Governor of the country,
hath recorded Ihat in this Book; the substance of
which is. If we be truly willing to have it, he will
bestow it upon us freely.

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to
hear of these things ; come on, let us mend our pace.

Chb. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason
of this Burden that is upon my back.

Now I saw in my Dream, that just as they had
ended this talk, they drew near to a very miry
Slough, that was in the midst of the plain , and they,
being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

19

be name of die slough was Diipond, Here there-
fore they wailowed for a time, bchig grievously
bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of
the Burden that was on his back, began to sink
in the mire.

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah Neighbor Christian,
where arc you now?

Chb. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.

pLi, At that Pliable began to be offended, and
angerly said to his fellow. Is this the happiness you
have told me all this while of? If we have such ill
speed at our first setting out, what may we expect
'twist this and our Journey's end? May I get out
again with my life, you shall possess the brave
Country alone for me. And with that he gave a
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire
on that side of the Slough which was next to his
own house : so away he went, and Christian saw
him no more.

Wherefore Ckristian was left to tumble in the
Slough of Dispond alone; but still he endeavoured
to struggle to that side of the Slough that was still
further from his own house, and next to the
Wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get
out, because of the Burden that was upon his back:
But I beheld in my Dream, that a man came to
him, whose name was Help, and asked him. What
he did there?

Chr. Sir, said Chrislian, I was bid go this way
by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also
to yonder Gale, that I might escape the wrath to
come; and as I was going thither, I fell in here.

Help. But why did you not look for the steps?
, Cmh. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the
next way, and fell in,

HEtP, Then said he, Give me thy hand: so he
gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and set
him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that pluckt him out, and
said, Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way;

The Slough
of Dispond

It U not

enouabto
be pliable

ChriitlBD
in trouble
seeks still
ID eel fur-
ther froTH
his own
hoiue

The prom-
ises.

Help Itit
him up

20

PILGBiarS PROGRESS

What
milkers the
SiMRh of
Diapond

The lu-om-
bes of f or-

andaccept-
ancE to fife
by faith
in Christ

Pliable en I
hoiilt. aiyii
is visited
of hi^
neighbors

from the City of Destruction to yonder Gate, is
it that this plat is not mended, thai poor travellers
might go thither with more security? And he said
unto me. This miry Slough is such a place as cannot
be mended; it is the descent whither the scum and
filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually
run, and therefore it is called the Slough of Dis-
pond; for still as the sinner is awakened about his
lost condition, there ariseth in his soul many fears
and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which
all of them get together, and settle in this place:
And this is the reason of the badness of this ground.

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place
should remain so bad. His labourers also have, by
the direction of His Majesties Surveyors, been for
above these sixteen hundred years imployed about
this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been
mended : yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here
hath been swallowed up at least twenty thousand
cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions,
that have at all seasons been brought from all places
of the King's dominions (and they that can tell say
they are the best materials to make good ground of
the place), if so be it might have been mended, but
it is the Slough of Dispond still, and so will be
when they have done what they can.

True, there are by the direction of the Lawgiver,
certain good and substantial steps, placed even
through the very midst of this Slough ; but at such
time as this place doth much spue out its filth, as
it doth against change of weather, these steps are
hardly seen; or If they be, men through the dizzi-
ness of their heads, step besides ; and then they are
bemircd to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be
there; but the ground is good when they are once
got in at the Gate.

Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time Pliable
was got home to his house again. So his Neighbors
came to visit him: and some of them called him
wise man for coming back, and some called him

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS H

fool for hazarding himself with Christian: others Hia enter-
again did mock at his cowardliness ; saying. Surely {^^^^f
since you began to venture, I would not have hitretura
been so base to have given out for a few difficulties.
So Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at
last he got more confidence, and then they all
turned their tales, and began to deride poor
Christian behind bis back. And thus much con-
cerning Pliable.

Now as Christian was walking solitary by him-
self, he espied one afar off come crossing over the
field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just
as they were crossing the way of each other. The
gentleman's name that met him was Mr. IVorldly Mr
Wiseman: he dwelt in the Town of Carnal Policy, ^?;'^„
a very great Town, and also hard by from whence metis with
Christian came. This man then meeting with Chri»tiBn
Christian, and having some inkling of him, — for
Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruc-
tion was much noised abroad, not only in the Town
where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town- Talkbe-
talk in some other places,— Master Worldly Wise- wori.^'
tnan therefore, having some guess of him, by be- Wiseman
holding his laborious going, by observing his sighs ^riitum
and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into
some talk with Christian.

World. How now, good fellow, whither away
after this burdened manner?

Chh. a burdened manner indeed, as ever I think
poor creature had. And whereas you ask me.
Whither away? I tell you. Sir, I am going to yon-
der Wicket-gate before me; for there, as I am in-
formed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my
heavy Burden,

World. Hast thou a Wife and Children?

Chr. Yes, but I am so laden with this Burden,
that I cannot take that pleasure in them as for-
merly ; methinks I am as if I had none.

World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee
counsel?

n

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Mr

Worldly

counsf 1 to
Christian

Mr

Worldly

Wiaeman

Evangel-
ist's
counsel

The frame
of the
heart at a
young
Christian

Chr. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need
of good counsel.

World. I would advise thee then, that thou with
all speed get thyself rid of thy Burden; for thou
wilt never be settled in thy mind till then ; nor
canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing which
God hath bestowed upon thee till then.

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be
rid of this heavy Burden; but get it off myself. I
cannot; nor is there any man in our country that
can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going
this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my
Burden.

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of
thy Burden?

Chr. a man that appeared to me to be a very
great and honorable person; his name as I remem-
ber is Evangelist.

World. I beshrew him for his counsel; there is
not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the
world than is that unto which he hath directed thee;
and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt he ruled by his
coimsei. Thou hast met with something (as I
perceive) already; for I see the dirt of the Slough
of Dispond is upon thee; but that Slough is the
beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that
go on in that way: Hear me, I am older than thou;
thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou
goest, Wearisomeness, Painfulncss, Hunger, Perils,
Nakedness, Sword, Lions, Dragons, Darkness, and
in a word. Death, and what not ! These things are
certainly true, having been confirmed by many tes-
timonies. And why should a man so carelessly
cast away liimself, by giving heed to a stranger?

Chs. Why, Sir, this Burden upon my back is
more terrible to me than are all these things which
you have mentioned ; nay, methinks I care not what
I meet with in the way, so be I can also meet with
deliverance from my Burden.

World. How earnest thou by thy Burden at first?

LGRIM'S PRC

"Chr. By reading this Book in my hand

World. I thought so; and it is happened unto
thee as to other weak men, who meddling with
things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy
distractions ; which distractions do not only unman
men (as thine I perceive has done thee), but they
run them upon desperate ventures, to obtain they
know not what.

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease for
ray heavy burden.

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this
way, seeing so many dangers attend it? Especially,
since (hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could
direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest,
without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run
thyself into; yea, and the remedy is at hand. Be-
sides, I will add, that instead of those dangers, thou
Shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and
content.

Cnii. Pray Sir, open this secret to me.

Would. Why in yonder Village (the village is
named Morality) there dwells a Gentleman whose
name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a
man of very good name, that has skill to help men
off with such burdens as thine are from their shoul-
ders : yea, to my knowledge he hath done a great
deal of good this way; ay, and besides, he hath skill
to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their
wits with their burdens. To him, as I said, thou
mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is
not quite a mile from this place, and if he should
not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man
to his Son, whose name is Ciri'/iiy, that can do it
(to speak on) as well as the old Gentleman himself;
there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy Burden;
and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former
habitation, as indeed I would not wish thee, thou
mayest send for thy Wife and Children to thee to
this village, where there are houses now stand
empty, one of wbidi thou mayest have at reason-

Worldlj
Wiseman
dac& not
like Ibat
men ihould
be 3erjoua
in reading
Uie Bible

Whether
Mr.

Worldly
Wiseman
prefers
morality
before the
strait gate

«

Chrisfian

brMr
Worldly

•ror<ls

Mount
Sinai

Christian
afraid that
Mount

Sinai
would fall

on his head

Evanitrlist
fin drill
Chrislian
under

Mount
Slnni. and
iDDlieili
ftcvcrcly
vpoa bim

able rates; Provision is there also cheap and good;
and lliat which will make thy life the more happy
is, to be sure there thou shaft live by honest Neigh-
bors, in credit and good fashion.

Now was Chrislian somewhat at a stand, but
presently he concluded. If this be trne which this
Gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take
his advice; and wllh that he thus farther spoke.

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's
house ?

World. Do you see yonder high Hill?
Chr. Yes, very well.

World. By that Hill you must go, and the first
house you come at is his.

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr
Legality's house for help ; but behold, when he was
got now hard by the Hill, it seemed so high, and
also that side of it Ihatwas next the wayside, did
hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to
venture further, lest the Hill should fall on his
head ; wherefore there he stood stitl, and he wot
not what to do. Also his Burden now seemed
heavier to him than while he was in his way. There
came also flashes of fire out of the Hill, that made
Chrislian afraid that he should be burned. Here
therefore he sweat and did quake for fear.

WTien Cbriaiians unto Canul Men gi»e ear,
Out of tbeir way they go, and pay for 'l dear;
For Master Wortdly Wiseman can but shew
A Saint the way to Bondage and to Wo.

And now he began to be sorry that he had taken
Mr Worldly Wiseman's cotmscl. And with thai he
saw Evangelist coming to meet him ; at the sight also
of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evange-
list drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to him,
he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful
countenance, and thus began to reason with
Christian.

Evan. What doest thou here. Christian!' said

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

25

he: at which words Christian knew not what to Evangelist
answer ; wherefore at present he stood speechless ^^^
before him. Then said Evangelist farther, Art not w[iii
thou the man that I found crying without the walls Chrisaao
of the City of Destruclionf

Chb. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man.

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little
Wicket-gate,

Chh. Yes, dear Sir, said Chrislian.

Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly
tunied aside? for thou art now out of the w'.y.

Chb. I met with a Gentleman so soon as 1 had
got over the Slough of Dispond. who persuaded me
that I might, in the village before me, find a man
that could take off my Burden.

Evan. What was he?

Chr. He looked like a Gentleman, and talked
much to me, and got me at last to yield ; so I came
hither: but when I beheld this Hill, and how it
hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest
it should fall on my head.

EvAH. What said that Gentleman to you?

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going;
and I told him.

Evan. And what said he then?

Chb. He asked me if I had a family; and I told
him. But, said I, I am so loaden with the Burden
that is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in
them as formerly,

Evan. And what said he then?

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my Bur-
den ; and I told him 'twas ease that I sought. And,
said I, I am therefore going to yonder Gate, to re-
ceive further direction how I may get to the place
of deliverance. So he said that he would shew
me a better way, and short, not so attended with
difficulties as the way. Sir, that you set rae; which
way, said he, will direct you to a Gentleman's
bouse that hath skill to take off these Burdens : So
1 believed him, and turned out of that way into this,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Eiangplisl
of hiB error

Mr

Worldly
Wiaenian
dFdcrihpd
by Evan-

Evangelist
die Co vers
the dectit
of Mr
Worldly

if haply I might be soon eased of my Burden. But
wheii I came to this place, and beheld things as they
are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger: but
I now know not what to do,

Evan. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little,
that I may shew thee the words of God. So he stood
trembling. Then said Evangelist, See that ye re-
fuse not him that speaketh; for if they escaped not
who refused him that spake on Earth, much more
shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that
Speaketh from Heaven. He said moreover. Now
the just sJiall live by faith: but if any man draws
back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. He
also did thus apply them. Thou art the man that art
running into this misery, thou hast begun to reject
the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy
foot from the way of peace, even almost to the
hazarding of thy perdition.

Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead,
crying, Wo is me, for I am undone: At the sight of
which. Evangelist caught him by the right hand.
Baying, All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be
forgiven unto men; be not faithless, but believing.
Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood
up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more
earnest heed to the things that I shall tell thee of.
I will now shew thee who it was that deluded thee,
and who it was also to whom he sent thee. The
man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and
rightly is he so called : partly because he savoureth
only the doctrine ci this world, (therefore he al-
ways goes to the Town of Morality to church) : and
partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for it
saveth him from the Cross. And because he is
of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pre-
vent roy ways, though right. Now there are three
things in this man's counsel that thou must utterly
abhor.

I. His turning thee out of the way.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

»

2. His labouring to render the Cross odioas to
thee.

3. And hi3 setting thy feet in that way that

leadeth unto the administration of Death.

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of
the way; yea, and thine own consenting thereto,
because this is to reject the counsel of God for the
sake of the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The
Lord says, Strive to enter in at Ike slratl gale, the
gate to which I sent thee; for strait is the gate that
leadeth unto life, and few there be that And it.
From this little Wicket-gate, and from the way
thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to the
bringing of thee almost to destruction; hate there-
fore his turning thee out of the way, and abhor
thyself for hearkening to him.

Secondly, Thou must abhot his labouring to
render the Cross odious unto thee; for thou art to
prefer it before the treasures of Egypt, Besides, the
King of Glory hath told thee, that he that tnill save
his life shall lose it: and He that comes after him,
and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, and
children, and brethren, and sisters, yea and his own
life also, he cannot be my Disciple. I say therefore,
for a man to labour to persuade thee, that that shall
be thy death, without which, the Truth hath said,
thou canst not have eternal life ; This doctrine thou
must abhor.

Thirdly, Thou must hale his setting of thy feet
in the way that leadeth to the ministration of death.
And for this thou must consider to whom he sent
thee, and also how unable that person was to de-
liver thee from thy Burden.

He to whom thou was sent for ease, being by
name Legality, is the Son of the Bond-woman The bond-
which now is, and is in bondage with her children; ""'™^''
and is in a mystery this Mount Sinai, which thou
hast feared will fall on thy head. Now if she with
her children are in bondage, how canst thou expect
by them to be made free? This Legality therefore

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

is not able to set thee free from thy Burden. No
man was as yet ever rid of his Burden by him; no,
nor ever is like to oe: ye cannot be justified by the
Works of the Law; for by the deeds of the Law
no man living can be rid of his Burden: therefore,
Mr IVorldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr Legality
a cheat; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding
his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite and can-
not help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all
this noise, that thou hast heard of this sottish man,
but a design to beguile thee of thy Salvation, by
turning thee from the way in which I had set thee.
After this Evangelist called aloud to the Heavens
for con5rmation of what he had said; and with that
there came words and fire out of the Mountain
under which poor Christian stood, that made the
hair of his fiesh stand. The words were thus pro-
nounced. As many as arc the works of the Law are
under the curse; for it is written. Cursed is every
one that contimicth not in all things which are
written in the Book of the Lavi to do them.

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and
began to cry out lamentably, even cursing the
time in which he met with Mr Worldly Wiseman,
still calhng himself a thousand fools for hearkening
to his counsel : he a!so was greatly ashamed to think
that this Gentleman's arguments, flowing only from
the flesh, should have tliat prevalency with him as
to cause him to forsake the right way. This done,
he applied himself again to Evangelist in words and
sense as follows,
Christira Chr. Sir, what think you? Is there hopes? May
inquires if J ^^^^ gg ^j^^Jj a„J g,-, „p (g jjjg Wicket-gatc ? Shall

be happy I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from
thence ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened
to this man's counsel: But may my sin be forgiven?
Evan. Then said Evangelist to him. Thy sin is
very great, for by it thou hast committed two evils:
thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread
in forbidden paths; yet will the man at the Gate

Bvingclilt

comforts

him

FILORUTS PROGRESS 29

receive thee, for he has good-will for men; only,
said he, take heed that thou turn not aside again,
lest thou perish from the way, when his wrath is
kindled but a little. Then did Christian address
himself to go back ; and Evangelist, after he had
kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him
God speed. So he went on with haste, neither spake
he to any man by the way; nor if any man asked
him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went
like one that was all the while treading on forbid-
den ground, and could by no means think himself
safe, till again he was got into the way which
he left to follow Mr Worldly Wiseman's counsel.
So in process of time Christian got up to the Gate.
Now over the Gate there was written. Knock and
it shall be opened unto you.

He that will enter in must first without

Stand knocking at the Gate, nor need be doubt

That is a knocker but to enter in.

For God can love him, and forgive his sin.

He knocked therefore more than once or twic^
saying,

Majr I now enter here ? Will he within
Open to sorry me, thoi«h I have been
An undeserving Rebel? Then shall I
Not toil to sing his lasting praise on hi^

At last there came a grave person to the gate
named Good-<vill, who asked Who was there? and
whence he came? and what he would have?

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come
from the City of Destruction, hut am going to
Mcrant Zion, that I may be delivered from the
wrath to come. I would therefore. Sir, since I am The gate
informed that by this Gate is the way thither, know *"' *>% .

., .„/ , . ■' opened to

II you are willing to let me m. broken-

Good-will. I am willing with all my heart, said h=aned

he; and with that he opened the Gate. '"

So when ChristtOH was stepping in, the other

PILGRIM'S PROORESS

Satan
cnviea
ibose tbat
enter the
■Uait gate

ChriBtian
entered the
gate with
joy and
trembling

Talk

between

Goad-wni

and

Ciuiatian

A man may
liave com'
pony when
he sets out
for heaved,
and jet go
thither
•lone

gave him a pull, Then said Christian, What means
that? Tlie other told him, A little distance from
this Gate, there is erected a strong Castle, o£
which Beelsebub is the Captain; from thence both
he and they that are with him shoot arrows at
those that come up to this Gate, if haply they
may die before they can enter in. Then said Chris-
tian, 1 rejoice and tremble. So when he was got In,
the man of the Gate asked him who directed him
thither?

Chh. Evangelist bid roe come hither and knock
(as I did) ; and he said that you. Sir, would tell
me what I must do.

Good-will. An open door is set before thee, and
no man can shut it.

Cur. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my
hazards.

Gooi>-wii.L. But how is it that you came alone?

Chr. Because none of my Neighbors saw their
danger, as I saw mine.

Good-will. Did any of them know of your
coming?

Cur. Yes, my Wife and Children saw me at the
first, and called after me to turn again ; also some
of my Neighbors stood crying and calling after me
to return ; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so
came on my way.

Good-will. But did none of them follow you, to
persuade you to go back?

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when
they saw that they could not prevail. Obstinate
went railing back, but Pliable came with me a little
way.

Good-will. But why did he not come through?

Che. We indeed came both together, until we
came to the Slough of Dispond, into the which we
also suddenly fell. And then was my Neighbor
Pliable discouraged, and would not adventure fur-
ther. Wherefore getting out again on that side
next to his own house, he told me I should possess

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the brave country alone for hiirt; so he went fttJ
way, and I came mine: he after Obstinate, and I to
this Gate.

GoOD-WiU.. Then said Good-wilt, Alas, poor man,
is the coelestial glory of so small esteem with him,
that he counteth it not worth running the hazards
of a few difficulties to obtain it?

Cdb. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth Chribiion
of Pliable, and if I should alao say all the truth ^^^^^^^
of myself, it will appear there is no betterment brfiveth»
'twixt him and myself. 'Tis true, he went back to ™*L
his own house, but I also turned aside to go in
the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the
carnal arguments of one Mr Worldly Wiseman.

Good-will. O, did he light upon you? Whatl he
would have had you a sought for ease at the hands
of Mr. Legality. They are both of them a very
cheat: But did you take his counsel?

Chb. Yes, as far as I durst: I went to find out
Mr Legality, until I thought that the Mountain
•Jiat stands by his house would have fallen upon
my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.

Good-will. That Mountain has been the death
of many, and will be the death of many more;
'tis well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

Cbr. Why truly I do not know what had be-
come of me there, had not Evangelist happily
met me again, as I was musing in the midst of
my dumps : but 'twas God's mercy that he came
to rac again, for else I had never come hither.
But now I am come, such a one as I am, more
fit indeed for death by that Mountain than thus
to stand talking with my Lord; but O, what a
favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted en-
trance here.

Good-will. We make no objections against any, Christie
notwithstanding all that they have done before g™;^"""*
they come hither, they in no wise are cast out;
and therefore, good Christian, come a little way
with me, and I will teach thee about the way

riLCRIM-S PROGHESS

lIlKi'lrtl

IM Ull

ri'Tliliin
■f nLI ot

111* w«y

ChrlilUn

weBf / of
bi> liuiilen

Tbciels
no driiv-
Ftance
from the
EiiHt and
biirdrn of
sin. but by
the death
and blood
of Oiiiit

ChristiaD
comr^ to
tha bouse
of the
InteiprelEr

thou must go. Look before thee ; dost thou see
tliii narrow way? THAT is the way thou must
go; It was cast up by the Patriarchs, Prophets,
Christ, and his Apostles; and it is as straight as a.
rule can niuke it: This is the way thou must go.

Cub. Hut said Christian, Is there no turnings
nor windings, by which a Stranger may lose the
way ? M

CiooB-wiLL. Yes, there are many ways buil down V
upon lliis, and they are crooked and wide: But
thus tliou mayest distinguish the right from the ^
wrong, the right only being straight and narrow, H

Then I saw in ray Dream, that Christian asked
him further If he could not help him off with
his Burden that was upon his back ; for as yet
he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any
means get it off without help.

He told him, As to thy Burden, be content to
hear it, until thou comest to the place of Deliver-
ance; for there it will fall from thy back itself.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and
to address himself to his Journey. So the other
lold him, That by that he was gone some distance
from the Gate, he would come at the house of
the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock,
and he would shew him excellent things. Then
Christian took his leave of his Friend, and he again
bid him God speed.

Then he went on till he came at the house o£
the tnlerpreler, where he knocked over and over;
at last one came to the door, and asked Who
was there ?

Chb. Sir, here is a Traveller, who was bid by an
acquaintance of the good man of this house to
call here for my profit; I would therefore speak
with the Master of the house. So he called for
the Master of the house, who after a little time
came to Christian, and asked him what he would
have?

Chk. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am

HO— Vol, IB — 1

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

^

i

come from the Cily of Destruction, and am going
to the Mount Zion; and I was told by the Man
that stands at the Gate at the head of this way,
that it I called here, yon would shew me excellent
things, such as would be a help to me in my
Journey.

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in, I
will shew thee that which will be profitable to thee.
So he commanded his man to light the Candle, and
bid Christian follow him, so he had him into a
private room, and bid his man open a door; the
which when he had done. Christian saw tlie Picture
of a very grave Person hang up against the wall;
and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lifted
up to Heaven, the best of BooVs in his hand,
the Law of Truth was written upon his lips, the
World was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded
with men, and a Crown of Gold did hang over
his head.

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this?

Inter, The Man whose Picture this is, is one of
a thousand; he can beget children, travel in birth
with children, and nurse them himself when they
are bom. And whereas thou seest him with his
eyes lift up to Heaven, the best of Books in his hand,
and the Law of Truth writ on his lips, it is to
shew thee that his work is to know and unfold
dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him
stand as if he pleaded with men ; and whereas thou
seest the World as cast behind him, and that a
Crown hangs over his head, that is to shew thee
that slighting and despising the things that are
present, for the love that he hath to his Master's
service, he is sure in the world that comes next
to have Glory for his reward. Now, said the Inter-
preter, I have shewed thee this Picture first, he-
cause the Man whose Picture this is, is the only
man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art
going, hath authorized to be thy guide in all dif-
ficult places thou mayest meet with in the way:

HC— Vol. 10—2

TUt is en-

Teitainrd

lUumina-
tioa

Chriaiian
£ec9 a
grave
picture

The

of the
picture

The
inESQing

of the
picture

showed
Lim the
picture

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

wherefore take good heed to wlial I have shews
thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast
seen, lest in thy Journey thou meet with some
that pretend to lead thee riglit, but their way goes
down to death.
JThen he took him by the hand, and led him into
|/C very large Parlour that was full of dust, because
never swept ; the which after he had reviewed a little
while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep.
Now when he began to sweep, the dust began
so abundantly to fly about, that Cbrislian had
almost therewith been choaked. Then said the /»-
terfreler to a Damsel that stood by. Bring hither
the Water, and sprinkle the Room; the which
when she had done, it was swept and cleansed
with pleasure.

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this?
t'EB, The Inlerpreier answered. This parlour
'fs the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the
sweet Grace of the Gospel: the dust is his Origi-
nal Sin and inward Corruptions, that have defiled the
whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is
the Law; but she that brought water, and did
sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou saw-
est that so soon as the first began lo sweep, the
dust did so fly about that the Room by him could not
be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choaked there-
with; this is to shew thee, that the Law, instead
of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin,
d"oth revive, put strength info, and increase jt^ in
the soul,' even as it doth discover and forbid it,
for it dbfli not give power to subdue.

Again, as thou sawest the Datiisel sprinkle the
room with Wafer, upon which it was cleansed
with pleasure; this is to shew thee, that when the
Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences
thereof to the heart, then I say, even as thou
sawest the Damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the
floor with Water, so is sin vanquished and sub-
dued, and the soul made clean, through the faith

PILGRIM';

of it, and consequently fit for the King of Glory
to inhabit.

I saw moreover in my Dream, that the Inter- He showed
prater took liim by the hand, and had him into a^^^^J"
littie room, where sat two Hltle Children, each p»tience
one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Pas-
sion, and the name of the other Patience. Pas-
sion seemed to be much discontent; hat Patience Passion
was very quiet. Then Christian asked. What is g,,'!,^''*
the reason of the discontent of Passion? The Inter- Patience
preier answered. The Governor of them would ^^^
have him stay for his best things till the begin-
ning of the next year ; but he will have all now ; but
Patience is willing to wait.

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and Pa>npn
brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down jj^r"
at his feet, the which he took up and rejoiced there-
in; and withal, laughed Patience to scorn. But
1 beheld but a while, and he bad lavished all away, ^^^
and had nothing left him but Rags. isvishea

Chr. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Ex- ■" »"?
pound this matter more fully to me.

Inter. So he said. These two Lads are figures: The matter
Passion, of the men of this world ; and Patience, ""P""
of the men of that which is to come; for as here
thou seest. Passion will have all now this year,
that is to say, in this world ; so are the men of this
world: they must have all their good things now,
Ihey cannot stay til! next year, that is. until the
sext world, for their portion of good. That prov- ''^''^ j^
erb, A Bird in the Hand is v;orth two in (hp^anfora
Bush, is of more authority with them than are bird in the
all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world ""
to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly
lavished all away, and had presently left him noth-
ing but Rags ; so will it be with all such men at the
end of this world.

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Pa- Patience
Uence has the best wisdom, and that upon many ^es,
accounts, i. Because he stays for the best things, wisdom

jSnrg progress

Thino
thai are

Gin mutt
gjTc placf ;
but Ihing*
that an
hnue
Iiitfng

his gaoil
thing! Sot

Tlwfint
things
are but
temporal

2. And also because he will have the Glory of his,
when the other has nothing but Rags.

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the
giory of the next world will never wear out ; but
these are suddenly gone, Therefore Passion had not
so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he
had his good things first, as Patience will have
to laugh at Passion, because he bad his best things
last; for Urst must give place to last, because last
must have his time to come : but last gives place
to nothing; for there is not another to succeed.
He therefore that hath his portion first, must needs
have a time to spend it ; but he that hath his portion
!asl, must have it lastingly; therefore it is said of
Dives, In thy lifetime thou reccivedst thy good
things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now
he is comforted, and thou art tormented,

Chr. Then I perceive 'tis not best to covet
things that are now, but to wait for things to come.

Inter. You say truth: For the things which are
seen arc Temporal; but the things that are not
seen are Eternal But though this be so, yet since
things present and our fleshly appetite arc such near
neighbors one to another ; and, again, because things
to come and carnal sense are such strangers one
to another ; therefore it is that the first of these so
suddenly fell into amity, and that distance is so
continued between the second.

Then I saw in my Dream that the Interpreter
took Christian by the hand, and led him into a
place where was a Fire burning against a wall, and
one standing by it, always casting much Water upon
it, to quench it; yet did the Fire burn higher and
hotter.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This Fire is the work
of Grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts
Water upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the
Devil; but in that thou seest the Fire notwith-
standing burn higher and hotter, thou Shalt also

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

V

see the reason of that. So he had him about to
the backside of the wall, where he saw a nian with
a Vessel of Oil in his hand, of the which he did also
continually cast (but secretly) into the Fire.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered. This is Christ, who
continually, with the Oil of his Grace, maintains
the work already begun in the heart: by the means
of which notwithstanding what the Devil can do,
the souls of his people prove gracious still. And
in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the
wall to maintain the Fire, that is to teach thee that
it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of
Grace is maintained in the soul.

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again
by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place,
where was builded a stately Palace, beautiful to be-
hold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly
delighted: He saw also upon the top thereof, certain
persons walking, who were cloathed all in gold.

Then said Christian, May we go in thither ?

Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up
toward the door of the Palace; and behold, at the
door stood a great company of men, as desirous
to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man
at a little distance from the door, at a table-side,
with a Book and his Inkhorn before him, to take
the name of him that should enter therein; He
saw also, that in the door-way stood many men
in armour to keep it, being resolved to do the men
that would enter what hurt and mischief they could.
Now was Christian somewhat in a maze. At last,
when every man started back for fear of the armed
men, Christian saw a man of a very stout coun-Thev»].
tenance come up to the man that sat there to write, '■"' ™"
saying. Set down my name. Sir: the which when
he had done, he saw the man draw his Sword, and
put an Helmet upon his head, and rush toward the
door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with
deadly force; but the man, not at all discouraged,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Despair

like an
iron cage

fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after
he had received and given many wounds to those
that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way
through them all, and pressed forward into the Pal-
ace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from
those that were within, even of those thai walked
upoa the top of the Palace, saying,

Come in, Come in ;

Etsmal Glory thou Shalt win.

So he went in, and was cloathed with such garmem
l^ as they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think
verily I know the meaning of this.

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay,
said the Interpreter, till I have shewed thee a little
more, and after that thou shall go on thy ivay. So
he took him by the hand again, and led him into
a very dark room, where there sat a man in an Iron
Cage.

Now the Man, to look on, seemed very sad; he
sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his
hands folded together; and he sighed as if he would
break his heart. Then said Christian, What means
thisf At which the Interpreter bid him talk with
the Man. _,

Then said Christian to the Man, What art thouf
The Man answered, / am what I was not once.

Chr. What wast thou once?

Man. The Man said, I was once a fair and flour-
ishing Professor, both in mine own eyes, and also
in the eyes of others ; I once was, as 1 thought, fair
for the Ccelcstial City, and had then even joy at
the thoughts that I should get thither.

Chr. Weil, but what art thou now?

Man. I am now a man of Despair, and am shut
up in it. as in this Iron Cage. I cannot get out; O
now I cannot.

Chr. But how earnest thou in this condition?

Man. I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the
reins upon the neck of my lusts; 1 sinned against

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

SB

the light of the Word and the goodness of God;
I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted
the Devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked
God to anger, and he has left me; I have so hard-
ened my heart, that I cannot repent.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But are
there no hopes for such a man as this ? Ask him,
said the Interpreter.

Chr, Then said the Christian, Is there no hope,
but you must be kept in the Iron Cage of Despair?

Man, No, none at all.

Chb. Why? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.

Man, I have crucified him to myself afresh, I
have despised his Person, I have despised his Right-
eousness, I have counted his Blood an unholy
thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of Grace:
Therefore I have shut myself out of all the Promises,
and there now remains to me nothing but threat-
nings, dreadful threatnings, fearful threatnings of
certain Judgment and 5ery Indignation, which shall
devour me as an Adversary.

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this
condition ?

Man. For the Lusts, Pleasures, and Profits of this
WorM; in the enjoyment of which I did then promise
myself much delight; but now every one of those
things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning
worm,

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn?

Man. God hath denied me repentance : his Word
gives me no encouragement to believe ; yea, himself
hath shut me up in this Iron Cage ; nor can all the
men in the world let me out. O Eternity I Eternity!
how shall I grapple with the misery that I must
meet with in Eternity !

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let
this man's misery be remembred by thee, and be
an everlasting caution to thee.

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful; God
help me to watch and be sober, and to pray that I

40

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

may shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is
it not time for me to go on my way now?

Inter. Tarry till I shall shew thee one thing
more, and then thou shall go thy way.

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led
him into a Chamber, where there was one rising out
of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook and
trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man
thus tremble ? The Interpreter then bid him tell to
Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began
ajid said. This night, as I was in ray sleep, I dreamed,
and behold the Heavens grew exceeding black; also
it thundred and lightned in most fearful wise,
that it put me into an agony; so I looked up in my
Dream, and saw the Clouds rack at an unusual rate,
upon which I heard a great sound of a Trumpet,
and saw also a Man sit upon a Cloud, attended with
the thousands of Heaven ; they were all in flaming
fire, also the Heavens were in a burning flame. I
heard then a Voice saying, Arise ye dead, and come
to Judgment; and with that the Rocks rent, the
Graves opened, and the Dead that were therein came
forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and
looked upward; and some sought to hide them-
selves under the Mountains. Then I saw the Man
that sat upon the Cloud open the Book, and bid
the World draw near. Yet there was, by reason
of a fierce flame which issued out and came from
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and
them, as betwixt the Judge and the Prisoners at
the bar. I heard it also proclaimed to them that
attended on the Man that sat on the Cloud, Gather
together the Tares, the Chaff, and SUtbble, and cast
them into the burning Lake. And with that, the
bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood ; out
of the mouth of which there came in an abundant
manner, smoke and coals of lire, with hideous
noises. It was also said to the same persons. Gather
my Wheat into the Garner. And with that I saw
many catch'd up and carried away into the Clouds,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

but I was left behind, I also sought to hide myself,
but I could not, for the Man that sat upon the
Cloud still kept his eye upon me : my sins also came
into my mind; and my Conscience did accuse me on
every side. Upon this I awaked from ray sleep,

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of
this sight?

M.Mf. Why, I thought that the day of Judgment
was come, and that I was not ready for it: but
this frighted me most, that the Angels gathered up
several, and left me behind ; also the pit of HeU
opened her mouth just where I stood: my Con-
science too afflicted me; and as I thought, the Judge
had always his eye upon me, shewing indignalion
in his countenance.

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou
considered all these tkingsf

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.

Inter, Well, keep all things so in thy mind that
they may be as a Goad in thy sides, to prick thee
forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian
began to gird up his loins, and address himself
to his Journey. Then said the Interpreter, The
Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to
guide thee in the way that leads to the City. So
Christian went on his way saying.

Here 1 have seen things rare and profitable;
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to m&ke me stable
In what I have begun to take in hand;
Tbeu let me think on them, and uiiderstaiLd
Wherefore they shew'd me was, luid let me be
Thaakful, O good Interpreter, to thee.

Now I saw in my Dream, that the highway up
which Christian was to go, was fenced on either
side with a Wall, and that Wall is called Salvation.
Up this way therefore did burdened Christian run,
but not without great difficulty, because of the load
on his back.

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat as-
cending, and upon that place stood a Cross, and ft

PILOlinrS FROGBESS

Utdc Mow in the bottom, a Sepulchre. So I szvr
in my Dream, that just as Christian came up with
the Cross, his Burden loosed from off his shoulders,
and fell from off hia back, and began to tumble, and
so continued to do, till it came to the mouth
of the Sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it
no more.
niieoCod Then was Chrislian glad and lightsome, and said
ofw""* with a merry hean. He hath given me rest by his
sniimd sorrow, and life by his death. Then he stood ^till
burdoi awhile to look and wonder ; for it was very surpris-
thoif ihai 'i>B to him. that the sight of the Cross should thus
leap for joj ease him of his Burden. He looked therefore, and
looked again, even till the springs that were in his
head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now as he
stood looking and weeping, behold three Shining
Ones came to him and saluted him with Peace be to
thee; so the first said to him, Thy sins be forgiven:
the second stript him of his Rags, and clothed him
with Change of Raiment ; the third also set a mark
in his forehead, and gave him a Roll with a Seal
upon it, which he bid him look on as he ran, and
that he should give it in at the Coclestial Gate. So
they went their way.

Who's this? the Pilgrim. Howl 'Us very true.

Old things are past away, ill's become new.
Strange! he's another man, upon my word,
Tbey be flue Feathers that make a fine Bird-
Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went
on singing.

Thus far did I come laden with my sin;
Nor could aught ease the grief that 1 was in
Till I came hither: What a place is tbisi
Must here be the beginning ot ray bliss?
Mnst here the Burden fall from off my back?
Must here the strings tliat bound it to me crack f
Blest CrossI blest Sepulchrel blest rather be
The Man that there was put to shame for me.

I saw then in my Dream that he went on thtis,
even until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a

A Chris-
tian can
fling
thou eh
alone.
when God
doth give
him Ihc
ioy of hia
heart

Slmpte.
Sloth, and
Presump-
lioi)

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IS

Jittle out of the way, three men fast asleep, with
fetters upon their heels. The name of the one was
Simple, another Sloth, and the third Presumption.

Christian then seeing them he in this case, wentThtreis
to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and ""p*™*-
cricd. You are Hke them that sleep on the top of do, it God
a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that "P'""''
hath no bottom. Awake therefore and come away; eyes
be willing also, and I will help you ofE with your
Irons. He also told them. If he that goeth about
like a roaring lion comes by, you will certainly be- '"^
come a prey to his teeth. With that they looked upon
him, and began to reply in his sort: Simple said,
/ see no danger; Sloth said. Yet a Utile more sleep;
and Pres7imption said. Every Fai^ must stand upon
his own bottom. And so they lay down to sleep
again and Christtaji went on his way.

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that ChtistiBn
danger should so little esteem the kindness of him "jt^ than
that so freely offered to help them, both by awaken-
ing of them, counselling of them, and proffering to
help tliem off with their Irons. And as he was
troubled thereabout he espied two men come tum-
bling over the Wall, on the left hand of the narrow
way; and they made up apace to him. The name of
the one was Formalist, and the name of the other
Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him,
■who thus entered with them into discourse.

Can. Gentlemen, Whence came you, and whither
do you go ?

Form, and Hyp. We were bom in the land of
Vaiti~g!ory, and are going for praise to Moimt Stow.

CitR. Why came you not in at the Gate which
standeth at the beginning of the W^ay? Know you
not that it is written. That he that cometh not in
by the Door, hut climbeth up some other way, the
Savte is a Thief and a Robber^

Form, and Hvp. They said. That to go to the
Gate for entrance was by all their countrymen
■/.«., V« or lab.

ccNintcd too far about: and that therefore Aat
nsnal way was to make a short cat of it> and b> cdtmb
over the wall, as ther had done

Cek. But will it not be counted a Trespass against
the Lord of the City vriiitber wc arc boood, thus
to -riolatc his revealed wQl?

Fork, and Hvp. They told hitn. That as for that,

he needed not to trouble his head tfaervaboat: for

bMMtbv what tfaey did tbey had custom for; and covkl pro-

*'*^ dnce, if ne«d were , Tesdraony that wouM witness

:m it for more than a thousand years.

Chjl But. said Christian, will your practice soad

tins

ihcri

TindkuiiB a Trial at Law ?

■fifcrir Foaif. and Hyp. They tM him. TTiat cnstom.

^rtaict it being of so long a standing as above a tfaoosaod
yeais, wonld doubtless now be admitted as a thing
legal by an impartial Judge ; and besides, sud dMy.
if wc get into tfie way, what's matter iriucli w^ we
gel in ? if we are in, we are in ; tboa art but in tbe
way. wbo, as we {Krceire, came in at the Gate ; and
we are also in the way, that came tumbling over the
wall : wberdn now is thy condition beter than ours?
Chk. I walk by the Rule of my Master; you walk
by the rode wortdng of your fancies. You are
counted thieves already, by the Lord of the way;
tiiercfore I doubt you will not be found true men
at the end of the way. Yon come tn by jonrselves,
wttbout his direction; and shall go out by jtmtselves,
without his mer^.

To this tbey made htm but little answer; only
tb» bid him look to himself. Then I saw that
the>- went on every man in his way, without much
conference one with another; save that these two
men told Christian, that as to Lairs inA Ordintnurs,
they doubted not but they should as ooosctentioosly
do them as he; therefore, said tbey, we see not
wherein thou differest from us but by the Coal that
is on thy back, which was. as we trow, given thee by
some of thy Nei^bors, to bide the shame of tlqr
nakedness.

PILGHIM'S PROGRESS

45

Chr. By Laws and Ordinances you will not be
saved, since yon came not in by the door. And
as for this Coai that is on my hack, it was given
me by the Lord of the place whither I go ; and that,
as jou say, to cover my nakedness with. And I
take it as a token of his kindness to me, for I had
nothing but rags before. And besides, thus I com-
fort myself as I go : Surely think I, when I come to
the gate of the City, the Lord thereof will know
me for good, since I have this Coat on my back; a
Coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stript
me of my rags. I have moreover a Mark in my
forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no
notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate asso-
ciates fixed there in the day that my Burden fell
off my shoulders. I will tell you moreover, that I
had then given me a Roll sealed, to comfort me by
reading as I go in the way ; I was also bid to give it
in at the Coslestial Gate, in token of my certain
going in after it; all which things I doubt you want,
and want them because you came not in at the Gate.

To these things they gave him no answer; only
they looked upon each other and laughed. Then I
saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept
before, who had no more talk but with himself, and
that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfort-
ably; also he would be often reading in the Roll
that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which
he was refreshed.

I beheld then, that they all went on till they
came to the foot of the Hill DifHcutty, at tlie bot-
tom of which was a Spring. There was also in the
same place two other ways besides that which
came straight from the Gate ; one turned to the left
hand and the other to the right, at the bottom of the
Hill; but the narrow way lay right up the Hill, and
the name of the going up the side of the Hill is called
DifHculty. Christian now went to the Spring, and
drank thereof to refresh himself, and then began to
go up the Hill, saying,

Christian
bas tot his
Lard's coat
on hi&
back, and
is eom-
forled
therewith i
he ia com-
forlfd.
also, with
his tddrk
find his roll

Chrisllan
has talk
himself

He comc»
<□ Ihe Hill
DiiSculty

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

The Hill, tho' high, I covet to asccDd,

The difficulty will not me offend;

For I perceive the v/ay to life lies here :

Come, pluck up. Heart, let'» neither faint nof fear;

Better, tho' difficult, the rieht way to go.

Than wrong, though easy, where the end is wo.

The The Other two also came to the foot of the Hill;

t^'bg"' *•"' ^^^" ^^^y ^^* *^^^ ^^ ■^'" ™^* ^'*^^P ^"'^ ^'S^'
oQtoE and that there was two other ways to go; and sup-

"""fw posing also that these two ways might tneet again

with that up which Christian went, on the other

side of the Hill ; therefore they were resolved to

go in those ways. Now the name of one of those

ways was Danger, and the name of the other

Destruction. So the one took the way which is

called Danger, which led him into a great Wood;

and the other took directly up the way to Destruc-

lion, which led him into a wide field, £u!l of dark

Mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose

no more.

Shall they who wrong begin yet rightly end?
Shall they at all have Safety for their friend P
No, no; in headstrong manner they set out.
And headlong will they fal! at last no doubt

Aword I looked then after Christian to see him go up
•( grace t[,g jjill, where I perceived he fell from running
to going, and from going to clambering upon his
hands and his knees, because of the steepness of
the place. Now about the mid-way to the top of tlie
Hill was a pleasant Arbor, made by the Lord of the
Hill for the refreshing of weary travellers; thither
therefore Christian got, where also he sat down to
rest him. Then he pulled his Roll out of his bosom,
and read therein to his comfort; he also now began
atresh to take a review of the Coat or Garment diat
was given him as he stood by the Cross. Thus
pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber,
and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him
in that place until it was almost night; and in his
sleep his Roll fell out of his hand. Now as he waa

5RIM-9 PRf

^■

«r

sleeping, there came one lo him and awaked him,
saying. Go to the Ant, thou sluggard; consider her
ways, and be wise. And with that Christian sud-
denly started up, and sped on his way, and went
apace fill he came to tlie top o£ the Hill.

Now when he was got up to the top of the Hill,
there came two men running against him amain;
the name o£ the one was Timorous, and the other.
Mistrust; to whom Christian said. Sirs, what's the
matter you run the wrong way? Timorous an-
swered, that they were goiTig to the City of Zion,
and had got up that difficult place; but, said he,
the further we go, the more danger we meet with;
wherefore we turned, and are going back again.

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple
of Lions in the way, (whether sleeping or waking
we know not) and we could not think, if we came
within reach, but they would presently pull us in
pieces.

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid,
but whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to
mine own country, that is prepared for Fire and
Brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I
can get to the Ccelestial City, I am sure to be in
safety there. I must venture: To go back is noth-
ing but death ; to go forward is fear of death, and
life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward.
So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the Hill, and
Christian went on his way. But thinking again of
what he heard from the men, he felt in his bosom
for his Roll, that he might read therein and be com-
forted; but he felt, and found it not. Then was
Christian in great distress, and knew not what to
do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him,
and that which should have been his pass into the
Ccelestial City. Here therefore he began to be much
perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he
bethought himself that he had slept in the Arbor
that is on the side of the Hill; and falling down
upon his knees he asked God's forgiveness for that

Hethit

alecjH is
a loser

Christian
meets with
Misituat
and
TjiDormiS

CbriMiui
shakes
off fear

Christian
missed
hjs roil
wherein
he usfd

tQ UllG

comfort

He is per-
plexed for
his roll

48

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

his foolish fact' and then went back to look for his
Roil, But all the way he went back, wlio can suffi-
ciently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart?
Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and often-
times he chid himself for being so foolish to fall
asleep in that place, which was erected only for a
httle refreshment for his weariness. Thus therefore
he went back, carefully looking on this side and
on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might
find his Roll, that had been his comfort so many
times in his Journey. He went thus till he came
again within sight of the Arbor where he sat and
slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more,
by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping
into his mind. Thus therefore he now went on
Chriwian bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, wretched man
^loitb ^ '*'^' ' "'"■ ^^^' I should sleep in the daytime 1 that
iJecping I should sleep in the midst of difficulty t that I should
so indulge the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to
ray flesh, which the Lord of the Hill hath erected
only for the relief of the spirits of Pilgrims? How
many steps have I took in vaint (Thus it hap-
pened to Israel for their sin, they were sent back
again by the way of the Red Sea), and I am made
to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have
trod wilh delight, had it not been for this sinful
sleep. How far might I have been on my way by
this time ! I am made to tread those steps thrice
over, which I needed not to have trod but once;
yea now also I am like to he benighted, for the day
is almost spent. O that I had not slept !
ctrisiian Now by this time he was come to the Arbor again,
roll where where for a while he sat down and wept; but at
he lost it last, as Christian would have it, looking sorrowfully
down under the settle, there he espied his Roll;
the which he with trembling and haste catched up,
and put it into his bosom. But who can tell how
joyful this man was when he had gotten his Roll
again ! for this Roll was the assurance of bis life

iRESS

and acceptance at the desired Haven. Therefore
he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for
directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with
joy and tears betook himself again to his Journey.
But Oh how nimbly now did he go up the rest of
the Hill 1 Yet before he got up, the Sun went down
upon Christian; and this made him again recall the
vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus
he again began to condole with himself. O thou
sinful sleep: how for thy sake am I like to be be-
nighted in my Journey! I must walk Tiithout the
Sun, darkness must cover the path of my feet, and
I must hear the noise of doleful creatures, because
of my sinful sleep. Now also he remembered the
story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how
they were frighted with the sight of the Lions. Then
said Christian to himself again. These beasts range
in the night for their prey ; and if they should meet
with me in the dark, how should I shift them?
How should I escape being by thera torn in pieces?
Thus he went on his way. But while he was thus
bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his
eyes, and beiiold there was a very stately Palace
before hini, the name of which was Beautiful; and
it stood just by the High- way side.

So I saw in my Dream that he made haste and
went forward, that if possible he might get Lodging
there. Now before he had gone far, he entered into
a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong
off of the Porter's Lodge; and looking very nar-
rowly before him as he went, he espied two Lions
in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that
Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The
Lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.)
Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go
back after them, for he thought nothing but death
was before him: But the Porter at the lodge, whose
name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made
a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying.
Is tby strength so small ? Fear not the Lions, for

so PILGI

they are chained, and are placed there for trial ol
faith where it is, and for discovery of those that
have none. Keep in the midst of the Path, and no
hurt shall come unto thee.

Difficulty is behind. Fear is betare,
Though he's got on the Hill, tbe Lions roar ;
'\^Chr!BLisD man is ii^vei_lop^ at ease,
-' 'Whep one frlKht'sgone, onotber doth.blm selce.

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of
the Lions, but taking good heed to the directions of
the Porter; he heard them roar, but they did him no
harm. Then he clapt his hands, and went on till he
came and stood before the Gate where the Porter
was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what
house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The
Porter answered. This house was built by the Lord
of the Hill, and he built it for the relief and secu-
rity of Pilgrims, The Porter also asked whence he
was, and whither he was going?

Chb. I am come from the City of Destruction, and
am going to Mount Zion; but because the Sun is
now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night.

PoH. What is your name ?

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name
at the first was Graceless; I came of the race of
Japheth, whom God will persuade to dwell in the
Tents of Shem.

For. But how doth it happen that you come so
late? The Sun is set.

Chb. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched
man that I am! I slept in the Arbor that stands
on the Hill-side; nay, I had notwithstanding that,
been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost
my evidence, and came without it to the brow of
the Hill ; and then feeling for it, and finding it not,
I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back to
the place where I had slept my sleep, where I found
it, and now I am come.

PoR, Wellj 1 will call out one of the Virgins o£

PILGRIM'S PROORESS

51

this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you
in to the rest of the Family, according to the rules
of the house. So Watchful the Porter, rang a bell,
at the sound of which came out at the door of the
house, a grave and beautiful damsel named Dis-
cretion, and asked why she was called.

The Porter answered. This man is in a Journey
from the City of Dsstruction to Mount Zion, but
being weary and benighted, he asked me if he
might lodge here to-night; so I told him I would
call for thee, who, after discourse had with him,
niayest do as seemeth thee good, even according to
Ihe Law of the house.

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither
he was going; and be told her. She asked him
also, how he got into the way; and he told her.
Then she asked him, what he had seen and met
with in the way ; and he told her. And last she
asked his name; so he said. It is Christian, and
I have so much the more a desire to lodge here
to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place
was built by the Lord of the HiU, for the relief
and security of Pilgrims. So she smiled, but the
water stood in her eyes ; and after a little pause,
she said, I \vill call forth two or three more of the
Family. So she ran to the door, and called out
Prudence, Piely, and Charily, who after a little
more discourse with him, led him in to the Family;
and many of them, meeting him at the threshold of
the house, said. Come in thou blessed of the Lord:
this house was built by the Lord of the Hill, on pur-
pose to entertain such Pilgrims in. Then he bowed
his head, and followed them into the house. So
when he was come in and set down, they gave him
something to drink, and consented together, that
until supper was ready, some of them should have
some particular discourse with Christian, for the
best improvement of time: and they appointed Piety,
and Pruiience, and Charity to discourse with him;
nod thus they began :

a

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Ktvf
AKonnca

How
CbriMiui
was drill ca

out ot hii

couDCry

Elow be got
into the
wty Id

■I of vlui

be HW IB

tllG WAy

PiETV. Coiuc good Christian, since we have bcea
so loving to you, to receive you into our house this
night, let us, if perhaps wc may beUer oniselves
thereby, talk with you of aJ] things that have hap-
pened to you in your Pilgrimage.

Chr. With a very good will, and I am glad that
you are so well disposed.

Piety. Wliat moved you at first to betake yourselE
to a Pilgrim's life?

Chr. I was driven out of my Native Country, by
a dreadful sound that was in mine ears : to wit, that
unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in
that place where 1 was.

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out
of your Country this way?

Chr, It was as God would have it; for when I
was under the fears of destruction, I did not know
whither to go; but by chance there came a man,
even to me. as I was trembling and weeping, whose
name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the
Wicket -gate, which else I should never have found,
and so set me into the way that hath led me di-
rectly to this house.

Piety. But did you not come by the bouse of the
InterpreterT

Chb. Yc9, and did see such things there, the re-
membrance of which will stick by me as long as I
hVe: specially three things: to wit, How Christ, in
despite of Satan, maintains his work of Grace in the
heart; how the man had sinned himself quite out of
hopes of God's mercy: and also the Dream of hira
that thought in his sleep the day of Judgment was
come.

Piety. Why. Did you hear him tell his dream?

Cub. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought
it made my heart ake as he was telling of it; but
yet I am glad I heard it.

PiBTY. Was that all that you saw at (be bouse of
the Interpreter?

Chr. No: he took me and had me where be

PILGRIM'S PBOGKESS

53

shewed me a stately Palace, and how the people
were clad in Gold that were in it; and how there
came a venturous man and cut his way through the
armed men that stood in the door to keep him out,
and how he was bid to come in, and win eternal
Glory. Methought those things did ravish my
heart; I would have stayed at that good man's house
a twelve-month, but that I knew I had further to go.

Piety. And what saw you else in the way ?

Chr. Saw! Why, I went but a little further, and
I saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding
upon the Tree ; and the very sight of hira made my
Burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a very
heavy Burden), but then it fell down from off me.
'Twas a strange thing to tne, for I never saw such a
thing before; yea, and while I stood looking up (for
then I could not forbear looking) three Shining
Ones came to me. One of them testified that my
sins were forgiven me ; another stript me of my
Rags, and gave me this broidered Coat which you
see; and the third set the Mark which you see in my
forehead, and gave me this sealed Roll: (and with
that he plucked it out of his bosom.)

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not?

Chr. The things that I have told you were the
best; yet some other matters I saw, as namely I saw
three men. Simple, Slotk, and Presumption, lie
asleep a little out of the way as I came, with Irons
upon their heels; but do you think I could awake
them? I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come
tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to
Zion; but they were quickly lost ; even as I myself
did fell them, but they would not believe. But,
above all, 1 found it hard work to get up this Hill,
and as hard to come by the Lions' mouths; and
truly if it had not been for the good man, the Porter
that stands at the Gate, I do not know but that
after all I might have gone back again; but now I
thank God I am here, and I thaiik you for re-
ceiving of me.

H

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

rrudence
disco ufics

Chriftiui's

IhDUgfaU

of hifi
countjy

Christian
distasted
with camal
cagilaCiona

Christ Jan's
choics

Christian's

golden

hours

How

Christian
gfts powtr
aeainat his
corruption a

Why

Christian
would be
at Mount
Zton

Then Prudence thought good to ask him k few

questions, and desired his answer to them.

Pkud, Do you not think sometimes of the Coun-
try from whence you came?

Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detestation:
Truly. i£ I had been mindful of that Country from
whence I came out, I might have had opportunity
to have returned: but now I desire a better Coun-
try, that is, a Heavenly.

Prud. Do you not yet bear away with you some
of the things that then you were conversant withal?

Can. Yes, btct greatly against my will; espe-
cially ray inward and carnal cogitations, with which
all my countrymen, as well as myself, were de-
lighted; but now all those things are my grief;
and might I but chuse mine own things, I would
chuse never to think of those things more; but
when I would be doing of that which is best, that
which is worst is with me.

Prud. Do you not find sometimes, as if those
things were vanquished, which at other times are
your perplexity?

Chr. Yes, but that is seldom ; but they are to me
golden hours in which such things happen to me,

Prcd. Can you remember by what means you find
your annoyances at times, as if they were van-
quished F

Chk. Yes, when I think what I saw at the Cross,
that will do it; and when I look upon my broid-
ered Coat, that will do it; also when I look into
the Roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do
it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither
I am going, that will do it.

Prud. And what is it that makes you so de-
sirous to go to Mount Zionf

Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive that did_
hang dead on the Cross; and there I hope to be rid
of all those things that to this day are in me an
annoyance to me; there, they say, there is no death;
and there I shall dwell with tuch Contpanv as I

PROGRESS

like best. For to tell you truth, I love him, because
I was by him eased of my Burden, and I am weary
of my inward sickness; I would fain be where I
shall die no more, and with the Company that shall
continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy. ,

Then said Charity to Ckrisiian, Have yon a
family ? Are you a married man ?

Chr. I have a Wife and four small Children.

Chak. And why did you not bring them along
with you?

Chr, Then Christian wept, and said. Oh how will-
ingly would I have done it, but they were all of
them utterly averse to my going on Pilgrimage.

Char. But you should have talked to them, and
have endeavoured to have shewn them the danger
of being behind.

Chr. 5o I (lid, and told them also what God had
shewed lo me of the destruction of our City; but
I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they
believed me not.

Char. And did you pray to God that he would
bless your counsel to them?

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection; for you.
must think that my Wife and poor Children were
very dear unto me.

Char. But did you tell them of your own sor-
row, and fear of destruction? for I suppose that
destruction was visible enough to you.

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might
also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and
also in my trembling under the apprehension of the
Judgment that did hang over our heads ; but all was
not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.

Char. But what could they say for themselves,
why they came not ?

Chr. Why, my Wife was afraid of losing this
World, and my Children were given to the foolish
Delights of youth : so what by one thing, and what
by another, they left me to wander in this manner
alone.

S

Charily
him

Cbristian*H
\ove to hie
wi£e and
diildren

Chnstian's
fears of
peri shins
miehr be
r»d in
hifl very
CDuntt-
naace

The cause
why his
wife and
children
did not so
withhifD

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

ChriBtiu's
good coa-

before blB
wife and
children

Christ isD
dtar dS
Ihcti blood
if thty
perish

What
Chrislian
had to Ilia
Eupptr

Their uUc

at suppsr-
tiiae

Char. But did you not with your vain life, damp
all that you by words used by way of persuasion
to bring them away with you?

Chr. Indeed I caunot commend my life; for I
am conscious to myself of many failings therein:
I know also, that a man by his conversation may
sooa overthrow, what by argument or persuasion
he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good.
Yet, this I can say, I %vaa very wary of ^ving them
occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them
averse to going on Pilgrimage. Yea, for this very
thing they would tell me I was too precise, and
that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in
which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say,
that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was
my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of
doing any wrong to my Neighbor.

CiiAR. Indeed Cain hated his Brother, because
his own works were evil, and his Brother's ti^t-
eoas; and if thy Wife and Children have been
offended with thee for this, they thereby shew them-
selves to be implacable to good, and thou hast de-
livered thy soul from their blood.

Now I saw in my Dream, that thus they sat talk-
ing together until supper was ready. So when they
had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the
Table was furnished with fat things, and with Wine
that was well refined: and all their talk at the
Table was about the LORD of the Hill ; as namely,
about what HE had done, and wherefore HE did
what He did, and why HE had builded that House:
and by what they said, I perceived that he had been
a great Warriour, and had fought with and slain
him that had the power of Death, but not with-
out great danger to himself, which made me love
him the more.

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Chris-
tian) he did it with the loss of much blood; but that
which put Glory of Grace into all he did, was, that
he did it out of pure love to his Country. And

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

besides, there were some of them of the household
that said they had seen and spoke with him since
he did die on the Cross; and they have attested
that they had it from his own lips, that he is such
a lover of poor Pilgrims, that the hke is not to be
found from the East to the West.

They moreover gave an instance of what they
affirmed, and that was. He had stript himself of his
glory, that he might do this for the Poor; and tlial
they heard him say and affirm. Thai he would not
dwell in the Mountain of Zion alone. They said
moreover, that he had made many Pilgrims Princes,
though by nature they were Beggars born, and their
original had been the dmighill.

Thus they discoursed together till late at night;
and after they had committed themselves to their
Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest :
the Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber,
whose window opened towards the Sun rising; the
name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till
break of day, and then he awoke and sang,

Where am I now ? Is this the love and care
Of JesuB tor the men that Pilgrims arc
TfauB to provide I That I abould be forgiven
And dwell already the next door to Heaven I

So in the morning they all got up, and after some
more discourse, they told him that he should not
depart till they had shewed him the Rarities of that
place. And first they had him into the Study, where
they shewed him Records of the greatest antiquity ;
in which, as I remember my Dream, they shewed
him first the Pedigree of the Lord of the Hill, that
he was the Son of the Anti'ent of Days, and came
by an Eternal Generation. Here also was more
fuily recorded the Acts that he had done, and the
names of many hundreds that he had taken into
his service; and how he had placed them in such
Habitations that could neither by length of Days,
nor decays of Nature, be dissolved.

57

cfaiiit

makes
princes ai
beggara

Christian'a
bed-
chamber

had Into
the study,
end what
he fiV
there

m

PILGRIM'S FR0GRB6S

Chriitiui
had into
tbe
■nnoniT

Cbrisdaa
is nudo
toe??
indent
Ibiogs

Then they read to him some of the worthy Acts
that some of his servants bad done: as, how they
had subdued Kingdoms, wrought Right eousoess, ob-
tained Promises, stopped the mouths of Lions,
quenched the violence of Fire, escaped the edge of
the Sword ; out of weakness were made strong,
waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight tbe
Armies of the Aliens.

Then they read again in another part of the
Records of the house, where it was shewed how
willing their Lord was to receive into his favour
any, even any, though they in time past had offered
great affronts to his Person and proceedings. Here
also were several other Histories of many other
famous things, of all which Christian had a view ; as
of things both Antient and Modern: together with
Prophecies and Predictions of things that have
their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and
amazement of Enemies, and the comfort and solace
of Pilgrims.

The next day they took him and had him into the
Armory, where they shewed him all manner of
Furniture, which their Lord had provided for Pil-
grims, as Sword, Shield, Helmet, Breastplate, All-
prayer, and Shoes that would not wear out. And
there was here enough of this to harness out as
many men for the service of their Lord as there
be Stars in the Heaven for multitude.

They also shewed him some of the Engines with
which some of his Servants had done wonderful
things. They shewed him Moses" Rod ; the Hammer
and Nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the Pitchers,
Trumpets and Lamps too, with which Gideon put
to flight the Armies of Midiatt: Then they shewed
him the Ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six
hundred men : They shewed him also the Jaw-bone
with which Samson did such mighty feats: They
shewed him moreover the SHng and Stone with
which David slew Goliah of Gath: and the Sword
also with which their Lord will kill the Man of

iPILGRIM'S PROGRESS

I

Sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey.

They shewed him besides many excellent things,
with which Ciiristian was much delighted. This
done, they went to their rest again.

Then I saw in my Dream, that on the morrow he
got up to go forwards, but they desired him to stay
till the next day also; and then, said they, we will
(if the day be clear) shew you the Delectable
Mountains, which, they said, would yet further add
to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired
Haven than the place where at present he was: so
he consented and stayed. When the morning was
up, they had him to the top of the House, and bid
him look South; so he did: and behold at a great
distance he saw a most pleasant Mountainous Coun-
try, beautified with Woods, Vineyards, Fruits of all
sorts. Flowers also, with Springs and Fountains,
very delectable to behold. Then he asked the name
of the Country :

They said it was Immanuel's Land; and it is
as common, they saidj as this Hill is, to and
for all the Pilgrims. And when thou comest
there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see to
the gate of the Ccelestial City, as the Shepherds that
live there will make appear.

Now he bethought himself of setting forward,
and they were willing he should: but first, said they,
let us go again into the Armory; So they did; and
when they came there, they harnessed him from
head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps
he should meet with assaults in the way. He being
therefore thus accoutred, walketh out with his
friends to the Gate, and there he asked the Porter
if he saw any Pilgrims pass by: Then the Porter
answered, Yes.

Chr, Pray, did you know him? said he.

For. I adted his name, and he told me it was
Faithful.

Chh. O, said Christian, T know him ; he is my
Townsman, my near Neighbor, he comes from the

Christiaa
showed the
DdectBhJs
Mountains

Chnsdaa
sets for-
ward

ChHstian
anned

80

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Hair
Chrbtiin

and the
Poitir
ertei at
paning

place where I was born: How far do you think he
may be before?

PoR. He is got by this time below the Hill,
Chr. Well, said CkristiaH, good Porter, the Lord
be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much in-
crease, for the kindness that thou hast shewed to
me.

Whilst Christiait is amODg his go<Uy friends.
Their golden moutliB malte him sufficient menda
For ail fais griefs, and when they let bim go,
He's clad with nanhern Steel from top to toe.

'fH^^'ir^ Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion,
Man Piety, Charily, and Prudence, would accompany him

down to the foot of the Hill. So they went on to-
gether, reiterating their former discourses, till they
came to go down the Hill, Then said Christian,
As it was dORcutt coming up, so (so far as I can
see) it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Pru-
dence, so it is, for it is a hare! matter for 3 man to
go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art
now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore,
said they, are we come out to accompany thee down
the Hill. So he began to go down, but very warily;
yet he caught a slip or two.

Then I saw in my Dream that these good Com-
panions, when Christian was gone down to the
bottom of the Hilt, gave him a loaf of Bread, i
bottle of Wine, and a cluster of Raisins; and then
he went on his way.
hss'^o"' ^"' "'^*' '" *^'^ Valley of Humiliation, poor
armour for ChristiMi was hard put to it ; for he had gone but
biiback ^ ];tt]g ^^y^ before he espied a foul Fiend coming
over the field to meet him; his name is Apollyon,
Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast
in his mind whether to go back or to stand his
ground: But he considered again that he had no
Armor for his back, and therefore thought that to
turn the back to him might give him the greater
advantage with ease to pierce him with his Darts.

PILGRIM'S PROGRES

a

I

■

Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his
ground; For, thought he, had I no more in mine
eye than the saving of my life, 'twould be the best
way to stand.

So he went on, and ApoUyon met him. Now the
Monster was hideous to behold; he was cloathed
with scales like a Fish (and they are his pride);
lie had wings like a Dragon, feet like a Bear, and
out of his belly came Fire and Smdte; and his
mouth was as the mouth of a Lion. When he was
come up to Christian, be beheld him with a dis-
dainful countenance, and thus began to question
Tvith him.

Apol. Whence come you? and whither are you
bound?

Chb. I am come from the City of Destruction,
which is the place of all evil, and am going to the
City of Zion.

Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my Sub-
jects, for all that Country is mine, and I am the
Prince and God of it. How is it then that thou
hast run away from thy King? Were it not that
I hope thou mayest do me more service, I would
strike thee now at one blow to the ground.

CuH. I was born indeed in your dominions, but
your service was hard, and your wages such as a
man could not live on, for the tvagcs of siit is death;
therefore when I was come to years, I did as other
considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I might
mend myself.

Apol, There is no Prince that will thus lightly
lose his Subjects, neither ivil! I as yet lose thee : but
since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be
content to go back; what our Country will afford,
I do here promise to give thee.

Chr, But I have let myself to another, even to
the King of Princes, and how can I with fairness
go back with thee?

Apol. Thou hast done in this, according to the
Proverb, changed a bad for a worse; but it is ordi-

ChrittiBn'i

at tbc ap-
praacli of
ApollyoD

Discourso

bctwin

ChrisUsn

and

ApQllyon

Apollyon's
flatlSTy

PILGHIM*S PROGRESS

Vdfuat

ChHil'i

tcnrlce

ApcrtlyriTi
|irflend>

lobe

Apollyon
pleads tbc

ends of
Christian B,
to dissuade
Christian
from prt-
flisting in
his way

nary for those that have professed themselves his
Servants, after a while to give him the slip, and
return again to me : Do thou so too, and all shall
be well.

Cur. I have given him my faith, and sworn my
allegianL-e to him; how then can I go back from this,
and not be hanged as a Traitor?

AcoL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am
willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet tura
again and go back.

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage;
and besides, I count that the Prince under whose
Banner now I stand is able to absolve me ; yea, and
to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with
thee ; and besides, O thou destroying Apoliyon, to
speak truth, I Uke his Service, his Wages, his Ser-
vants, his Government, his Company and Country,
better than thine; and therefore leave off to per-
suade me further; I am his Servant, and I will
follow him.

Apol. Consider again when thou art in cool
blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way
that thou goest. Thou knowest that for the most
part, his Servants come to an ill end, because they
are transgressors against me and my ways : How
many of them have been put to shameful deaths;
and besides, thou countest his service better than
mine, whereas he never came yet from the place
where he is to deliver any that served him out of
our hands; but as for me, how many times, as all
the World very well knows, have I delivered, either
hy power or fraud, those that have faithfully served
me, from him and his, though taken by them; and
so I will deliver thee.

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them
is on purpose to try their love, whether they will
cleave to him to the end ; and as for the ill end thou
sayest they come to. that is most glorious in their
account ; for for present deliverance, they do not
much expect it, for they stay for their Glory, and

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

63

i

^^'

W

hey shall have it, when their Prince comes in

his and the Glory of the Angels.

Apol, Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy
service to him, and how dost thou think to receive
wages gf him?

Chr. Wlierein, O Apdlyon, have I been unfaith-
ful to him?

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when
thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of Dispond;
thou didst attempt wrong ways to he rid of thy
Burden, whereas thou ahonldest have stayed till thy

rince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully sleep and
lose thy choice thing; thou wast also almost per-
suaded to go hack, at the sight of the Lions; and
when thou talkest of thy Journey, and of what thou
liast heard and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of
vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest.

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou
hast left out ; hut the Prince whom 1 serve and
hwior is merciful, and ready to forgive; but besides,
these infirmities possessed nie in thy Country, for
there I sucked them in, and I have groaned under
them, been sorry for them, and have obtained Par-
Ion of my Prince.

Apol. Then ApoUyon broke out into a grievous
rage, saying, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate
his Person, his Laws, and People ; I am come out on
purpose to withstand thee.

Chr. ApoUyon, beware what you do, for I am in
the King's High-way, the way of Holiness, there-
fore take heed to yourself.

Apol. Then ApoUyon straddled quite over the
whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of
iear in this matter, prepare thyself to die; for I
swear by my infernal Den, that thou shall go no
further; here will I spill thy soul.

And with that he threw a flaming Dart at his
breast, but Christian had a Shield in hts hand, with
which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of
tiiat

ApoUyoij
pleads
Chribtfan'^
infirniitiea

hira

ApoUyon
in 3 rage
ial\i upoD
ChristJan

PILGRIM'S PROGHESS

wounded
m his
uinler-
standing,
faith, and
CODveru-

Apollyon

CABtCth

down to
the ground
ChriitUn

CbrbtiiD'a
Ticlory

over
ApoltjFon

A brief
relation of
the combat
by the
specator

Then did Chnsliati draw, for he saw 'twas time to
bestir him: and Apollyon as fast made at him,
throwing Darts as thick as Hail; by the which, not-
withstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it,
Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot: This made Christian give a little back; Apol-
lyon therefore followed his work amain, and
Christian again took courage, and resisted as man-
fully as he couid. This sore Combat lasted for
above half a day, even till Christian was almost
quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by
reason of his woimds, must needs grow weaker
and weaker.

Then Apollyon espying his opportunity, began to
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with
him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with that Chris-
tian's Sword flew out of his hand. Then said
Apollyon, I am sure of thee now: and v/ith that he
had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian
began to despair of life ; but as God would have it,
while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, there-
by to make a full end of this good man. Christian
nimbly stretched out his hand for his Sword, and
caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, mine
Enemy! when 1 fall I shall arise; and with that gave
him a deadly thrust, which made him give back,
as one that had received his mortal wound: Chris-
tian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying,
Nay, in all these things we are more than Con-
querors through him that loved us. And with that
Apollyon spread forth his Dragon's wings, and sped
him away, that Christian for a season saw him no
more.

In this Combat no man can imagine, unless he had
seen and heard as I did. what yelling and hideous
roaring Apollyon made alt the time of the fight, he
spake like a Dragon; and on the other side, what
sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I
never saw him all the while give so much as one
pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 6!

ApoUyon with his two-edged Sword: then indeed
he did smile, and look upward; but 'twas the dread-
fullest sight that ever I saw.

A more unequal match can hardly be:
Christian must fight an Aogpl ; but you see
The Valiant Man by handling Sword and Shield,
Doth malce him, tbo' a Dragon, quit the field.

So when the Battle was over, Christian said, I Chtistian
will here give thanks to him that hath delivered me jj^^^
out of the mouth of the Lion, to him that did help ddivttance
me against ApoUyon. And so he did, saying,

Great Beelsebttb, the Captain of this Fiend,
Dcsign'd my ruin ; therefore to this end
He sent him hamess'd out : and he with rage
That helli^ was, did fiercely me engiagei
But blessed Michael helped me. and 1
By dint of Sword did quickly make bim 67.
Therefore to him let me give lasting praiae.
And thank and bless his holy uaoie always.

Then there came to him a hand, with some of the Chriitfan

leaves of ihe Tree of Life, the which Christian took, ?"'''' ™l«i

. joumty
and applied to the wounds that he had received in with Us

the Battle, and was healed immediately. He also '™^

drswA

sat down in that place to eat Bread, and to drinkinu,
of the Bottle that was given him a little before ; '""'d
so being refreshed, he addressed himself to his
Jouraey, with his Sword drawn in his hand; for he
said, I know not hut some other Enemy may he at
hand. Biit Tie met with no other affront from
ApoUyon quite through this Valley.

Now at the end of this Valley was another, called The Villey
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and Chrislian ^^f^^ 0,
must needs go through it, because the way to the Death
CcElestial City lay through the midst of it. Now,
this Valley is a very solitary place. The Prophet
Jeretniah thus describes it: A ■wilderness, a land of
desarts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the
shadow of death, a land that no man (but a Chris-
tian) pasteth through, and where no man dwelt.

HO— Vol, 16—3

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

dm of Ihe
■piei go

back

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in
his fight with ApoUyon, as by the sequel you shall
see.
Thachii- I saw then in my Dream, that when Christian
was got to the borders of the Shadow of Death,
there met him two men. Children of them that
brought up an evil report of the good land, mak-
ing haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as
follows,

Chr. Whither are you going?

Men. They said, Back, back; and we would have
you to do so too, if either life or peace is prized
by you.

Chr. Why, what's the matter? said Christian.

Men. Matter ! said they ; we were going that way
as you are going, and went as far as we durst; and
indeed we were almost past coming back ; for had
we gone a little further, we had not been here to
bring the news to thee.

Chr. But what have you met with? said
Christian.

Men. Why we were almost in the Valley of the
Shadow of Death; but that by good hap we looked
before us, and saw the danger before we came to it.

Chh. But what have you seen? said Christian.

Men. Seen 1 Why, the Valley itself, which is as
dark as pitch; we also saw there the Hobgoblins,
Satyrs, and Dragons of the Pit; we heard also in
that Valley a continual howling and yelling, as of
a people under unutterable misery, who there sat
bound in affliction and irons; and over that Valley
hangs the discouraging clouds of Confusion; Death
also doth always spread his wings over it. In a
word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly with-
out Order.

Chh. Then said Christian, I perceive not yet, by
what you have said, but that this is my way to the
desired Haven.

Men. Be it thy way; we will not chuse it for
ours. So they parted, and Ckrislian went on bis

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

way, but still with his Sword drawn Jn his hand,
£or fear lest he should be assaulted.

I saw then in ray Dream, so far as this Valley
reached, there was on the right hand a very deep
Ditch ; that Ditch is it into which the blind have led
the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably
perished. Again, behold on the left hand, there was
a very dangerous Quag, into which, if even a good
man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot to
Stand on. Into that Quag King David once did fall,
and had no doubt therein been smothered, had not
he that is able pluckt him out.

The path-way was here also exceeding narroWj
and therefore good Christian was the more put to
it ; for when he sought in the dark to shun the ditch
on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the
mire on the other; also when he sought to escape
the mire, without great carefulness he would be
ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, and
I heard him here sigh bitterly; for, besides the
dangers mentioned above, the path-way was here 30
dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up his foot to set
forward, he knew not where, or Upon what he
should set it next.

87

Poor nun! where art Ihon now? Thy Day ia Nigbt.
Good man be not cast down, thou yet art right:
Thy way to Heaven lies by the gates of Hell ;
Chear np, hold out, with tbee It sbaU go well.

About the midst of this Valley, I perceived the ChristiMi
mouth of Hell to be, and it stood also hard by the ^^^^^ ^j
wayside. Now thought Christian, what shall I doPforawhilE
And ever and anon the flame and smoke would
come out in such abundance, with sparks and hide-
ous noises (things that cared not for Christian's
Sword, as did ApoUyon before) that he was forced
to put up his Sword, and betake himself to another
weapon, called All-prayer. So he cried in my hear-
ing, O Lord ! beseech thee deliver my Soul. Thus
be went on a great whilg, yet still the flames would

PILGRIMS PROGRESS

be reaching towards him : Also he beard doleful
voices, and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes
he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden
down like mire in the Streets, This frightful sight
was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by
him for several miles together; and coming to a
place where he thought he heard a company of
Fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopt, and
began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes
he had half a thought to go back; then again he
thought he might be half way through the ValJey;
he remembered also how he had already vanquished
many a danger, and that the danger of going back
might be much more than for lo go forward; so he
resolved to go on. Yet the Fiends seemed to come
nearer and nearer; but when they were come even
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement
voice, / will walk in the strength of Ike Lord God;
so they gave back, and came no further.

One thing I would not let slip; I took notice that

now poor Christian was so confounded, that he did

not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it;

d»,*hHi J"^' when he was come over against the mouth of

IftwM the burning Pit, one of the wicked ones got behind
""""rf' ^™' ^^^ stept up softly to him, and whisperii^Iy

' Sum into suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which
hUmiDd he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.
This put Christian more to it than anything that he
met with before, even to think that he should now
blaspheme him that he loved so much before; yet, tf
he could have helped it, he would not have done it;
but he had not the discretion neither to stop his
ears, nor to know from whence those blasphemies
came.

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate
condition some considerable time, he thought he
heard the voice of a man. as going before him,
saying. Though I tfalk through the P'allcy of the
Shadow of Dtalh, I win fear none tU, for Ihov art
with me.

Chrittisa
audebe-
[ line that
rtpdK

inrs PROGRESS

OB

^

»

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons:

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some
who feared God were in this Valley as well as
himself.

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with
them, though in that dark and dismal state; and
why not, thought he, with me? though by reason
of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot
perceive it.

Thirdly, For that he hoped, could lie overtake
them, to have company by and by. So he went on,
and called to him that was before; but he knew not
what to answer, for that he also thought himself
to be alone. And by and by the day broke; then
said Christian, He hath turned the Shadow of Death
into the morning.

Now morning being come, he looked back, not
out of desire to return, but to see, by the light of
the day, what hazards he had gone through in the
dark. So he saw more perfectly the Ditch that was
on the one hand, and the Quag that was on the
other ; also how narrow the way was which led be-
twixt them both; also now he saw the Hobgoblins,
and Satyrs, and Dragons of the Pit, but all afar off;
for after break of day, they came not nigh ; yet they
were discovered to him, according to that which is
written, He discovered deep things out of darkness,
and bringeth out to light Ike Shadow of DeaJh.

Now was Christian much affected with his de-
liverance from all the dangers of his solitary way;
which dangers, though he feared them more before,
yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light
of the day made them conspicuous to him. And
about this time the Sun was rising, and this was
another mercy to Christian; for you must note, that
though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow
of Death was dangerous, yet this second part which
he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more danger-
ous: for from the place where he now stood, even
to the end of the Valley, the way was all along set

CbriBliaa
elail at
break o£
day

Theieo-
ond part
of this
valtcT
very daa
geroas

PILGRIM'S PHOGHESS

SO full of Snares, Traps, Gins, and Nets here, and
BO full of Pits, Pitfalls, deep Holes, and Shelvings
down there, that had it now been dark, as it was
when he came the first part of the way. had he
had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast
away; but as I said, just now the Sun was rising.
Then said he, His candle shineth o« my head, and
by his light I go through darkness.

In this light therefore he came to the end of the
Valley. Now I saw in my Dream, that at the end
of this Valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled
bodies of men, even of Pilgrims that had gone this
way formerly; and while I was musing what should
be the reason, I espied a little before me a Cave,
where two Giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old
time ; by whose power and tyranny the men whose
bones, blood, ashes, &c. lay there, were cruelly put
to death. But by this place Christian went without
much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered ; but I
have learnt since, that Pagan bas been dead many
a day; and as for the other, though he be yet alive,
he is by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd
brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown
so crazy, and stiff in his joints, that he can now do
little more than sit in his Cave's mouth, grinning at
Pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails, be-
cause he cannot come to them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way: yet
at the sight of the Old Man that sat in the mouth
of the Cave, he could not tell what to think, spe-
cially because he spake to him, though he could not
go after him, saying. You ^uill never mend till more
of you be burned: But he held his peace, and set a
good face on't, and so went by and catcht no hurt
Then sang Christian,

O world of wonders I (I can toy no less)
That I should be preserv'd in that distress
That I have met with here I O blesacd be
That hand that from it hath delivered me I
Dacsecs in darkness. Devils, Hell, and Sin,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Did compass me. while I this Vale was in:

Yea, Snares, and Pits, and Traps, and Nets did Ke

My path about, that worthless silly I

Might have been catch'd, intangled, and cast down}

But since I live, let Jesus wear the Crown.

Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a
little ascent, which was cast up on purpose that
Pilgrims might see before them. Up there therefore
Christian went, and looking forward, he saw Faitiir
ful before him, upon his Journey. Then said
Christian aloud. Ho, ho, So-ho; stay, and I will be
your Companion. At that Faithful looked behind
him ; to whom Christian cried again. Stay, stay, till
I come up to you : But Faithful answered. No, I am
upon my life, and the Avenger of Blood is be-
hind me.

At this Chrisliati was somewhat moved, and
put'ting to all his strength, he quickly got up with
Faithful, and did also overrun him, so the last was
first. Then, did Christian vain- gloriously smile, be-
cause he had gotten the start of his Brother; but
not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly
stumbled and fell, and could not rise again, until
Faithful came up to help him.

Then I saw in my Dream they went very lovingly
on together, and had sweet discourse of all things
that had happened to them in their Pilgrimage; and
thus Christian began :

Chr. My honoured and well beloved Brother
Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you; and
that God has so tempered our spirits, that we can
walk as Companions in this so pleasant a path.

Faith. I had thought, dear Friend, to have had
your company quite from our Town ; but you did
get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come
thus much of the way alone.

Chr. How long did you stay in the Ci^ of
Destruction, before you set out after me on your
Pilgrimage ?

Faixb. Till I could stay no longer; for there was

Christian
owtiakei
Faithful

Christian'i
fa!] malcu
Faithful
and he go
lovingly
together

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Thdr talk
about tbc
countiy
frcin
wbcnce
tbey came

HowPli.

■bit v/aa
BccQunled
ofi when
besot
boine

great talk presently after you were gone out, that
our City would in short lime with Fire from Heaven
be burned down to the ground.

Chh. What, did your Neighbors talk so?

Faith. Yes, 'twas for a while in everybody's
mouth.

Chh. What, and did no more of them but you
come out to escape the danger ?

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk
thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly be-
lieve it. For in the heat of the discourse, I heard
some of them deridiiigly speak of you and of your
desperate Journey, (for so they called this your
Pilgrimage) but I did believe, and do still, that
the end of our City will be with Fire and Brim-
stone from above; and therefore I have made mine
escape.

CiiR. Did you hear no talk of Neighbor Pliable?

Faith. Yes ChrisUau, I heard that he followed
you till he came at the Slough of Dispond, where,
as some said, he fell in ; but he would not be known
to have so done; but I am sure he was soundly
bedabbled with that kind of dirt.

Chr. And what said the Neighbors to him?

Faith. He hath since his going back been had
greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of peo-
ple; some do mock and despise him; and scarce will
any set him on work. He is now seven times worse
than if he had never gone out of the City,

Chh, But why should they be so set against
him, since they also despise the way that he for-
sook?

Faith. Oh, they say, Hang him, he is a Turn-
coat, he was not true to his profession : I think God
has stirred up even his Enemies to hiss at him, and
make him a Proverb, because he hath forsaken the
way.

Chr. Had you no talk with him before yon came
out?

Faitb. I met him once ia the Streets, but he

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

»

leered away on the other side, as one ashamed of
what he had done; so I spake not to him.

Chb. Well, at my first setting out, I had hopes The doe
of that man; but now I fear he will perish in the ^^''"'
overthrow of the City, for it is happened to him
according to the true Proverb, The Dog is turned
to his Vomit again, and the Soiv that was washed
to her waUowing in the Mire.

Faith. They are my fears of him too; but who
can hinder that which will be?

Chr. Well Neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let
us leave him, and talk of things that more im-
mediately concern ourselves. Tell me now, what
you have met with in the way as you came; for I
know you have met with some things, or else it may
be writ for a wonder.

Faith. I escaped the Slough that I perceive you FaEthful
fell into, and got up to the Gate without that dan- ^^^f^n
ger : only I met with one whose name was Wanton,
that had like to have done me a mischief.

Chr. 'Twas well you escaped her Net; Joseph
was hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as
you did; but it had like to have cost him his life.
But what did she do to you ?

Faith. You cannot think (but that you know
something) what a flattering tongue she had; she
lay at me hard to turn aside with her, promising me
all manner of content.

Chr, Nay, she did not promise you the content
of a good conscience.

Faith. You know what I mean, all carnal and
fleshly content.

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her: The ab-
horred of the Lord shall fall into her Ditch.

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly
escape her or no.

Chr. Why, I tro you did not consent to her desires.

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembred
an old writing that I had seen, which saith. Her
steps take hold of Hell. So I shut mine eyes, be-

74

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

He is as-
saulted by
Adam the
FkM

cause T would not be bewitched with her looks : then
she railed on me, and I went my way.

Cbr. Did you meet with no other assault as you
came?

Faith. When I came to the foot of the Hill
called Difficulty, I met with a very aged Man, who
asked me, What I was, and whiltter bound? I told
him. That I was a Pilgrim, going to the Ccclestial
City. Then said the old man. Thou lookest like an
honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with
me for the wages that I shall give thee? Then I
asked him his name, and where he dwelt? He said
his name was Adam the First, and I dwell in ike
Town of Deceit. I asked him then. What was his
work? and what the wages that he would give? He
told me. That his work was many deiighis; and his
wages, that I should be his Heir at last, I further
asked him. What House he kept, and what other
Servants he had? So he told me. That his House
was maintained with all the dainties in the world;
and that his Servants were those of his own beget-
ting. Then I asked how many Children he had?
He said that he had but tliree Daughters : The Lust
of the Flesh, The Lust of the Eyes, and The Pride
of Life, and that I should marry them all if I would.
Then I asked him how long time he would have me
live with him? And he told me. As long as he lived
himself.

CiiR. Well, and what conclusion came the old
man and you to at last?

Faith. Why, at first, I felt myself somewhat in-
clinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake
very fair; but lodcing in his forehead, as I talked
with him, I saw there written. Put off the old man
with his deeds.

Chh. And how then?

Faith, Then it came burning hot into my mind,
whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he
got me home to his House, he would sell me for a
slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would

"^ot come near the door of his House. Then he re-
viled me, and told me that he would send such a
one after me, that should make my way bitter to my
Soul, So I turned to go away from him ; but just as
1 turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold
of my flesh and give rae such a deadly twitch back,
that I thought he had pulled part of me after him-
self. Tills made me cry, wretched Man I So I
went on ray way up the Hill.

Now when I had got about halfway up, I looked
behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as
the wind; so he overtook me just about the place
where the Settle stands.

Cna, Just there, said Christian, did I sit down
to rest me ; but being overcome with sleep, I there
lost this Roll out of my bosom.

Faith. But good Brother hear me out. So soon
as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a
blow, for down he knocked me, and laid me for
dead. But when I was a little come to myself again,
I asked him wherefore he served me so? He said.
Because of tny secret inclining to Adam the First:
and with that he struck me another deadly blow on
the breast, and beat me down backward, so I lay at
his foot as dead as before. So when I came to my-
self again I cried him mercy; but he said, I know
not how to shew mercy ; and with that knocked rae
down again. He had doubtless made an end of mc,
but that one came by, and bid him forbear.

Chh. Who v^as that that bid him forbear ?

Faith. I did not know him at first, but as he
went by, I perceived the holes in his hands and in
his side; then I concluded that he was our Lord.
So I went up the HiII.

Chb. That man that overtook you was Moses: ^bstrmptt
He sparetb none, neither knoweth he how to shew "' ^f"*™
mercy to those that transgress his Law.

F.^iTH. I know it very well; it was not the first
time that he has met with me. 'Twas he that came
to me when I dwelt securely; at home, and that told

PILGHIM'S PROGRESS

Fiitbtul

byDii-
content

mc, He would burn my house over my head if 1
staid tbere.

CiiB. But did you not sec the house that stood
there on the top o£ that Hill, on the side of which
Moses met you?

Faith, Yes, and the Lions too, before I came at
it: but for the Lions, I think they were asleep, for
it was about Noon ; and because I had so much of
the day before me, I passed by the Porter, and came
down the Htll.

Chr, He told me indeed that he saw you go by,
hut I wish you had called at the house, for they
would have shewed you so many Rarities, that you
would scarce have forgot them to the day of your
death. But pray tell me. Did you meet nobody in
the Valley of HumUUyf

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who
would wiUingly have persuaded me to go back again
with him ; his reason was, for that the Valley was
altogether without honour. He told me moreover,
that there to go was the way to disobey all my
friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-conceit, Wortdly-
glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would
be very much offended, if 1 made such a Fool of
myself as to wade through this Valley.

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ?

Faith. I told him, That although all these that
Wiconient ''^ ^^^ named might claim kindred of me, and that
rightly, (for indeed they were my Relations accord-
ing to the flesh) yet since I became a Pilgrim they
have disowned me, as I also have rejected them;
and therefore they were to me now no more than
if they had never been of my lineage. I told him
moreover, that as to this Valley, he had quite mis-
represented the thing; for before Honour is Humil-
ity, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Therefore
said I, I had rather go through this Valley to the
honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than
chuse the way which he esteemed most worthy our
affections,

Filthful'a

nLGnars progress

Chh. Met you with nothing else in that Valley?

Faith, Yes, I met with Shame; but of all theijeisas-
inen that I met with in my Pilgrimage, he I think «.^i^<l
bears the wrong name. The other would be said shame
nay, after a little argumentation, (and somewhat
else) but this boldfaced Shame would never have
done.

CiiK. Why, what did he say to you?

Faith. What! why he objected against Religion
itself; he said it was a pitiful low sneaking business
for a man to mind Religion; he said that a tender
conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a
man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie
up himself from that hectoring liberty that the
brave spirits of the times accustom themselves anto,
would make him the ridicule of the times. He ob-
jected also, that but few of the Mighty, Rich, or
Wise, were ever of my opinion; nor any of them
neither, before they were persuaded to be Fools,
and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the
loss of all, for nobody else knows what. He more-
over objected the base and low estate and condition
of those that were chiefly the Pilgrims of the times
in which they lived: also their ignorance, and want
of understanding in all Natural Science. Yea, he
did hold me to it at that rate aUo, about a great
many more things than here I relate; as, that it
was a sliatne to sit whining and mourning under a
Sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning
home; that it was a shame to ask my Neighbour
forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution
where I had taken from any. He said also that Re-
ligion made a man grow strange to the great, be-
cause of a few vices (which he called hy finer
names) and made him own and respect the base,
because of the same Religious Fraternity. And is
not this, said he, a skamef

Chr, And what did you say to him?

Faith. Say! I could not tell what to say at
first. Yea, he put me so to it, tfiat my blood came

7B PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up. and
had almost beat me quite o£E. But at last I began
to consider, Thai that -which is highly esteemed
among Men, is had in abominalion imik Gad. And
I thought again, this Shame tells me what men
are ; but it teUs me nothing what God or the IVord
of God is. And I thought moreover, that at the
day o£ doom, we shall not be doomed to death or
life according to the hectoring spirits of the world,
but according to the Wisdom and Law of the High-
est. Therefore thought I, what God says is best,
is best, though all the men in the world are against
it. Seeing then that God prefers his Religion, see-
ing God prefers a tender Conscience, seeing they
that make themselves Fools for the Kingdom of
Heaven are wisest ; and that the poor man that
laveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in
the world that hates him; Shame depart, thou art
an enemy to my Salvation: shall I entertain thee
against my Sovereign Lord? How then shall I
look him in the face at his coming? Should I now
be ashamed of his ways and Servants, how can I
expect the blessing? But indeed this Shame was a
bold villain; I could scarce shake him out of my
company; yea, he would be haunting of me, and
continually whispering me in the ear, wilh some
one or other of the infirmities that attend Religion;
but at last I told him, 'Twas but in vain to at-
tempt further in this business; for those things
that he disdained, in those did I see most glory;
and so at last I got past this importunate one.
And when I had shaken him off, then I began to
sing:

The tiyals that those men do meet withal,

That are obedieut to the Heavenly call,

Are manifold, and suited to the flesh,

And come, and come, aad come again afresh ;

That now, or some time else, we by them may

Be taken, overcome, and cast away.

Ob, let the Pilgrims, let the Pilgrims then.

Be vigilant, and quit themselves like nun.

PILGTITWS PROGRRSS

n

Chr. I am glad, my Brother, that thou didst
withstand this Villain so bravely; for of all, as thou
sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is
SQ bold as to follow us in the Streets, and to at-
tempt to put us to shame before al! men; that is,
to make us ashamed of that which is good: but if he
was not himself audacious, he would never attempt
to do as he does; but let us still resist him; for not-
withstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the
FtJol and none else. Tke Wise shall inherit glory,
said Solomon, but shame sHaU be the promotion
of Fools.

Faith, I think we must cry to Him for help
against Shame, that would have us to be valiant for
Truth upon the Earth.

Chh, You say true; but did yow meet nobody else
in that Valley?

Faith. No not I; for I had Sun-shine all the rest
of the way through that, and also through the Valley
of the Shadow of Death,

Chr. 'Twas well for you ; I am sure it fared far
otherwise with me ; I had for a long season, as soon
almost as I entred into that Valley, a dreadful
Combat with that foul Fiend Apollyon; yea, I
thought verily he would have killed me, especially
when he got nie down and crushed me under him, as
if he would have crushed me to pieces; for as he
threw he, my Sword flew out of my hand; nay, he
told me. He was sure of me: but / cried to God, and
he heard me. and delivered me out of all my troubles.
Then I entred into the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, and had no light for almost half the way
through it. I thought I should have been killed
there, over and over; but at last day brake, and the
Sun rose, and I went through that which was behind
with far more ease and quiet.

Moreover, I saw in niy Dream, that as they went Talksiive
on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw desciibed
a man whose name is Talkative, walking at a dis-
tance besides them; (for in tius place there was

PILGRISrS PROGRESS

Failbful
and Talka-
ti»c enter
diicoutie

disliire
of bad
discourse

room enough for them all to walk). He was a tail
man, and something more comely at a distance than
at hand. To this man faithful addressed himself
in this manner.

Faith. Friend, Whither away? Are you going
to the Heavenly Country ?

Talk. I am going to the same place.

Faith. That is well; then I hope we may have
your good company.

Talk. With a very good will will I be your Com-
panion.

Faith, Come on then, and let us go together, and
let us speud our time in discoursing of things that
are profitable.

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is
very acceptable, with you or with any other; and I
am glad that I have met with those that incline to so
T*iiative'a good a work ; for to speak the truth, there are but
few that care thus to spend their time (as they are
in their travels), but chuse much rather to be speak-
ing of things to no profit ; and this hath been a trouble
to me.

Faith. That is indeed a thing to be lamented;
for what things so worthy of the use of the tongue
and mouth of men on Earth as are the things of the
God of Heaven ?

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayuig
is full of conviction; and I will add. What thing
so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the
things of God? What things so pleasant? (that is,
if a man bath any delight in things that are wonder-
ful) for instance, if a man doth delight to talk of
the History or the Mystery of things; or if a man
doth love to talk of Miracles, Wonders, or Signs,
where shall he find things recorded so delightful,
and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture?

Faith. That's true; but to be profited by such
things in our talk should be that which we
design, '

Talk. That's it that I said; for to tali of such

PILGRIM'S PBOGHESS

81

things is most profitable ; for by so doing, a man T«ii«aTe"»
may g«t knowledge of many tbings; as of the vanity ^f"=
of earthly things, and the beneGt of things above: """"*
(Thus in general) but more particularly. By this
a man may learn the necessity of the New-birth,
the insufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's
righteousness, 6-c. Besides, by this a man may learn
by talk, what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to
suffer, or the like ; by this also a man may learn what
are the great promises and consolations of the
Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man
may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the
truth, and also to instruct the ignorant.

Faith. All this is true, and am I glad to hear these
things from you.

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so
few understand the need of faith, and the necessity
of a work of Grace in their Soul, in order to eternal
life; but ignorantly live in the works of the Law, by
which a man can by no means obtain the Kingdom
of Heaven.

Faith. But by your leave. Heavenly knowledge of
these is the gift of God; no man attaineth to them
by human industry, or only by the talk of them.

Talk. All this I know very well; (or a man can O brave
receive nothing, e.-«cept it be given him from Talk»tiTe
Heaven: all is of Grace, not of Works: I could
give you a hundred Scriptures for the confirmation
of this.

Faith. Well then, said Faithful, what is that one
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse
upon?

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things Heav- Obnte
enly, or things Earthly ; things Moral, or things TaikatiM
Evangelical; things Sacred or things Prophane;
things past or things to come; things foreign or
things at home; things more Essential, or things
Circumstantial; provided that all be done to our
profit.

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Faithful
b^uiled
by Tallu-
tivE

Christian
■nakcB a

of Talka-

stepping lo Christian (for he walked all this while
by himself) he said to him, (but softly) What a
brave Companion have we got 1 Surely this man will
make a very excellent Pilgrim.

Chb. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said,

This man with whom you are so taken, wiU beguile

,. with this tongue of his, twenty of them that know

tive. Idling. - . ° '

Faithful "'"> lot-

who he Faith. Do you know him then?

"" Chr. Know him I Yes, better than he knows

himself.

Faith, Pray what is he?

Chr, His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our
Tovra: I wonder that you should be a stranger to
him, only I consider that our Town is large.

Faith. Whose Son is he ? And whereabout doth
he dwell ?

Chr. He is the son of one Say-well; he dwelt
in Prating Row; and is known of all that are ac-
quainted with him, by the name of Talkative in
Prating Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue,
he is but a sorry fellow.

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man.

Chr. That is, to them who have thorough ac-
quaintance with him, for he is best abroad, near
home he is ugly enough : Your saying that he is
a pretty man, brings to my mind what I have ob-
served in the work of the Painter, whose Pictures
shew best at a distance, but very near, more un-
pl easing.

Faith, But I am ready to think you do but jest,
because you smiled.

Chh. God forbid that I should jest (though I
smiled) in this matter, or that 1 should accuse any
falsely: I will give you a further discovery of him:
This man is for any company, and for any talk;
as he talketh now with you, so he will talk when
he is on the Ale-bench; and the more drink he
hath in his crown, the more of these things he
hath in his mouth; Religion hath no glace in his

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

83

heart, or house, or conversation; all he hath lieth
in his tongue, and his Religion is to make a noise
therewith.

Faith. Say you sol Then am I in this man
greatly deceived.

Chr, Deceived! you may be sure of it; remem-
ber the Proverb, They say and do not: but the
Kingdom of God is not in zvord, but in power.
He talkelh of Prayer, of Repentance, of Faith, and
of the New-birth; but he knows but only to talk
of them. I have been in his Family, and have
observed him both at home and abroad; and I know
what I say of him is the truth. His house is as
empty of Religion as the white of an Egg is of
savour. There is there neither Prayer, nor sign of
Repentance for sin; yea, the brute in his kind serves
God better than he. He is the very stain, reproach,
and shame of Religion, to all that know him ; it can
hardly have a good word in all that end of the
Town where be dwells through him. Thus say the
common people that know him, A Saint abroad,
and a Devil at home. His poor Family finds it
so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so un-
reasonable with his Servants, that they neither
know how to do for, or speak to him. Men that
have any dealings with him, say 'tis better to deal
with a Turk than with him; for fairer dealing they
shall have at their hands. This Talkative (if it be
possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and
over-reach them. Besides he brings up his Sons to
follow his steps; and if be findeth in any of them
a foolish timoroiisness, (for so he calls the first ap-
pearance of a tender conscience) he calls them fools
and blockheads and by no means will imploy them
in much, or speak to their commendations before
others. For my part I am of opinion that he
has by his wicked life caused many to stumble and
fall; and will be, if God prevent not, the ruine
of many more.

Faith. Well, my Brother, I am bound to be-

TalkBIive
talks, hut
does not

Ht5 hon^e
is empty of
religion

He is ■

stain lo
religion

Thf pro»-
erb thst
goes of him

Men shDB
to deal
withbia

84

PILGRIMS PROGRESS

Thf car-
cass of
Tcligion

Hcve you ; not only because you say you know him,
but also because like a Christian, you make your
reports of men, For I cannot think that you speak
these things of ill will, but because it is even so as

you say.

Cett. Had I known him no more than you, 1 might
perhaps have thought of him as at the first you did;
yea, had he received this report at their hands only
that are enemies to Religion, I should have thought
it had been a slander: (a lot that often falls from
bad men's mouths upon good men's names and pro-
fessions;) but all these things, yea and a great
many more as bad, of my own knowledge I can
prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed
of him ; they can neither call him Brother, nor
Friend; the very naming of him among them, makes
them blush, if they know him.

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two
things, and hereafter I shall better observe this dis-
tinction.

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as
diverse as are the Soul and the Body; for as the
Body without the Soul is but a dead Carcass, so
Saying, if it be alone, is but a dead Carcass also.
The Soul of Religion is the practick part: Pure
Religion and undeAled, before God and the Father,
is this. To visit the fatherless and widows in their
aMiclion, and to keep himself unspotted from the
ivorld. This Talkative is not aware of; he thinks
that hearing and saying will make a good Christian,
and thus he dcceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but
as the sowing of the Seed; talking is not sufficient
to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life;
and let us assure ourselves, that at the day of
Doom men shall be judged according to their fruits.
It will not be said then. Did you believe? but Were
you Doers, or Talkers only? and accordingly shall
they be judged. The end of the world is compared
to our Harvest, and you know men at Harvest re-
gard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

85

accepted that is not of Faith; but I speak this to
she'v you how insignificant the profession of Talka-
tive will be at that day.

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by^»'";'"'
which he describeth the beast that is clean. He is^uhe°bid-
such an one that parteth the Hoof and cheweth the om of
Cud: not that parteth the Hoof only, or that cheweth T^""""
the Cud only. The Hare cheweth the Cud, but yet
is unclean, because he parteth not the Hoof. And
this truly resembleih Talkative; he cJieweth the Cud,
he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the Word;
but he divtdeth not the Hoof, he parteth not with
the way of sinners; but as the Hare, he retaineth
the foot of a Dog or Bear, and therefore is unclean.

Chr. You have spoken, for ought I know, the Tiiiittlvc
true Gospel sense of those Texts : And I will add ''*'< '"
another thing; Paid calleth some men, yea and those »^"n'dwittfc
great Talkers too, sounding Brass and tinklitig Cym- '«' !''«
bals; that is, as he expounds them in another place.
Things imthoul life, giving sound. Things without
life, that is, without the true Faith and Grace of
the Gospel ; and consequently things that shall never
be placed in the Kingdom of Heaven among those
that are the Children of life; though their sound,
by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice
of an Angel.

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company
at first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we
do to be rid of him?

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and
you shall find that he will soon he sick of your com-
pany too, except God shall touch his heart, and
turn it.

Faith. What would you have me to do?

CiiB. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious
discourse about the power of Religion; and ask him
plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he
will) whether this thing be set up in his Heart,
House, or Conversation.

Faitii. Then Faithful stepped forward again,

M

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Tl]faiti*e'<
false db-

tarerf of
• work of

Erece

To cry out
■gaioitrin

Crut

knowledge
na Biin of
gnce

and said to Talkative, Come, what ckearf How
is it nowf

Talk. Thank you, well. I thought we should have
had a great deal of talk by this time.

Faith, Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ;
and since you left it with me to state the question,
let it be this; How doth the saving Grace of God
discover itself, when it is in the heart of man ?

Talk. I perceive then that our talk must be about
the power of things: Well, 'tis a very good question,
and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my
answer in brief thus: First, Where the Grace of
God is in the heart, it causeth there a great out-cry
against sin. Secondly —

Faith. Nay hold, let us consider of one at once:
I think you should rather say. It shews itself by
inclining the Soul to abhor its sin.

Talk. Why, what difference is there between cry-
ing out against, and abhorring of sin ?

Faith. Oh! a great deal; a man may cry out
against sin, or policy; but he cannot abhor it, but
by vertue of a godly antipathy against it: I have
heard many cry out against sin in the Pulpit, who
yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and
conversation. Joseph's Mistress cried out with a
loud voice, as if she had been very holy; but she
would willingly, notwithstanding that, have com-
mitted uncleanness with him. Some cry out against
sin, even as the Mother cries out against her Child
in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl,
and then falls to hugging and kissing it.

Talk, You He at the catch, I perceive.

Faith. No, not I; I am only for setting things
right But what is the second thing whereby you
would prove a discovery of a work of Grace in the
heart?

Talk. Great knowledge of Gospel Mysteries.

Faith. This sign should have been first; but first
or last, it is aiso false ; for knowledge, great knowl-
edge may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

87

and yet no work of Grace in the Soul. Yea, if a
man have all knowledge, he may yet be codling;
and so consequently be no child o£ God. When
Christ said, Do you know all these things? and the
Disciples had answered, Yes; he addeth Blessed aye
ye if ye do them. He doth not lay the blessing in
the knowing of them, but in the doing of them.
For there is a knowledge that is not attended with
doing; He that knenvcth his Master's will, and doth
it not. A man may know like an Angel, and yet
be no Christian, therefore your sign of it is not true.
Indeed to kno^v is a thing that pleaseth Talkers
and Boasters ; but to do is that which pleaseth God.
Not that the heart can be good without knowledge;
for without that the heart is naught. There is there-
fore knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that
resteth in the bare speculation of things, and knowl-
edge that is accompanied with the Grace of faith
and love, which puts a man upon doing even the
will of God from the heart; the first of these will
serve the Talker ; but without the other the true
Christian is not content. Give me understanding,
and I shall keep thy Law; yea I shall observe it with
my whole heart.

Talk. You lie at the catch again, this is not for
edification.

Faith, Well, if you please propound another sign
how this work of Grace discovereth itself where
it is.

Talk, Not I, for I see we shall not agree.

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me
leave to do it?

Talk. You may use your liberty.

Faith. A work of Grace in the soul discovereth
itself, either to him that hath it, or to standers-by.

To him that hath it thus : It gives him conviction
of sin, especially of the defilement of his nature and
the sin of unbelief (for the sake of which he is sure
to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand
by faith in Jesus Christ). This sight and sense of

Knowledge

and

knowledge

Trae

knovlEdge
3tl ended
with
cndeavonra

One good

aign of
grate

88

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Anotbcr
good sign
•f STBCe

things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin;

he findeth moreover revealed in him the Saviour of
the world, and the absolute necessity of closing with
him for life, at the which he findeth hungrings and
thirstings after him, to which hungrings, &c. the
promise is made. Now according to the strength
or weakness of his Faith in his Saviour, so is his
joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his
desires to know him more, and also to serve him in
this World, But though I say it discovereth itself
thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able
to conclude that this is a work of Grace; because his
corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his
mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore in him
that hath this work, there is required a very sound
Judgment before he can with steadiness conclude
that this is a work of Grace.
To others it is thus discovered:

1. By an experimental confession of his Faith in
Christ.

2. By a life answerable to that confession, to wit,
a life of holiness, heart-holiness, family- holiness,
(if he hath a Family) and by conversation -holiness
in the World; which in the genera! leacheth him,
inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself for that in
secret, to suppress it in his Family, and to promote
holiness in the World ; not by talk only, as an Hypo-
crite or Talkative person may do, but by a practical
subjection, in Faith and Love, to the power of the
Word: And now Sir, as to this brief description
of the work of Grace, and also the discovery of it,
if you have ought to object, object : if not, then give
me leave to propound to you a second question.

Talk. Nay my part is not now to object, but to
hear, let me therefore have your second question.

Faith. It is this. Do you experience the first
part of this description of it? and doth your life
and conversation testify the same? or standeth your
Religion in Word or in Tongue, and not in Deed
and Truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me in

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

this, say no more than you know the God above will
say Amen to; and also nothing but what your con-
science can justify you in ; for, nol he ihat commend-
eth himself is approved, but whom the Lord com-
mendelk. Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when
my Conversation and all my Neighbors tell me I lye,
is great wickedness.

Talk. Then Talkative at first began to blush,
but recovering himself, thus he replied, You come
now to Experience, to Conscience, and God ; and
to appeal to htm for justification of what is spoken:
This kind of discourse I did not expect; nor am I
disposed to give an answer to such questions, be-
cause I count not myself bound thereto, unless you
take upon you to be a Catechi::er, and, though you
should so do,, yet I may refuse to make you my
Judge. But I pray will you tell me why you ask
me such questions ?

Faith, Because I saw you forward to talk, and
because I knew not that you had ought else but
notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have
heard of you that you are a man whose Religion
lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this
your Mouth-profession the lye. They say you are
a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth
the worse for your ungodly Conversation, that
some have already stumbled at your wicked ways,
and that more are in danger of being destroyed
thereby; your Religion, and an Ale-house, and
Covetousness, and Uncleanness, and Swearing and
Lying, and vain Company -keeping. &c. will stand
together. The Proverb is true of you which is said
of a Whore, to wit. That sbe is a shame to all
Women ; so you are a shame to all Professors,

Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports,
and to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but
conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man,
not fit to be discoursed with ; and so adieu.

Chh. Then came up Christian, and said to his
Brother, I told you how it would happen; your

Talkattve
nol pleased
wilh

Faithful's
question

The rea-
son g why
Faithful
put to blm
thai
qucstioa

Faillfnl's
plain deal-
ioE with
TslkBthre

TalVaUve
flings awitr
fron
Fdtkful

A Kagd

riddanea

90 PILGRIM'S PHOGRBSS

words and his lusts could not agree ; he had rather
leave your company than reform his life. Bui he
is gone, as Itaid; let him go, the loss is no man's
but his own, he has saved us the trouble of going
from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will
do) as be is, he would have been but a blot in our
company: besides, the Apostle says. From such
viilhdraw thyself.

Faith, But I am glad we had this little dis-
course with him, it may happen that he will think
of it again; however, I have dealt plainly with him,
and so am clear of his blood, if he perisheth.

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as
you did. There is but little of this faithful dealing
with men now a days, and that makes Religion to
stink so in the nostrils of many, as it doth ; for
they are these Talkative Fools whose Religion is
only in word, and are debauched and vain in their
Conversation, that (being so much admitted into
the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the World,
blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I
wish that all men would deal with such as you
have done: then should they either be made more
conformable to Religion, or the company of Saints
would be too hot for them. Then did Faithful say.

How Talkative at first lifts up hia Plumes t
How bravely doth he speak I How be presumes
To drive ail before himl But so soon
As Faithful talks of Hearl-'work, like the Moon
Tlial's past the full, into tbe wane he goes.
And so will all, but be that Heart-Ttiork knows.

Thus they ^ent on talking of what they had seen

by the way, and so made that way easy, which

would otherwise, no doubt, have been tedious to

them ; for now tiiey went through a Wilderness,

B»»ngei!!t Now when they were got almost quite out of this

ovmakM v^'iiderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back,

IhemBKaui ' . , ' . , , J 1. .

and espied one coming after them, and he knew
him. Oh ! said Faithful to his Brother, Who comes
yonder? Then Christian looked, and said. It is my

WLGRIM'S PBOGRESS

I

I

ipjod friend Evangelist. Ay, and my good friend
too, said Faithful, for 'twas he that set me Tile way
to the Gate. Now was Evangelist come Up unto
them, and thus saluted them:

Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and
peace be to your helpers.

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, TUey nre
the sight of thy countenance brings to my remem- f|',^''^|"ij[
brance thy antient kindness and unwearied labor- of him
ing for my eternal good.

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good
Faithful: Thy company, O sweet Evangelist, how
desirable is it to us poor Pilgrims!

Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared
with you my friends, since the time of our last
parting? What have you met .with, and how have
you behaved yourselves?

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things
that had happened to them in the way; and how,
and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that
place.

Evan. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that HiFerfior-
you have met with trials, hut that you have been "''"" '°
victors; and that you have (notwithstanding many
weaknesses) continued in the way to this very day.

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for
mine own sake and yours: I have sowed, and you
have reaped ; and the day is coming, when both he
that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice to-
gether; that is, if you hold out: for in due time ye
shall reap, if you faint not. The Crown is before
you, and it is an incorruptible one; so run that you
may obtain it. Some there be that set out for this
Crown, and after they have gone far for it, another
comes in, and takes it from them; hold fast there-
fore that you have, let no man take your Crown.
You are not yet out of the gun-shot of the Devil ;
you have not resisted unto blood, striving against
sin; let the Kingdom be always before you, and
believe stedfastly concerning things that are invis-

e

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Tbeydo
tbaiik bim

for hia
exborutian

He predict'
eib what
troubles
they shall
meet with
in Vanity
Fair, and
cncour-
Bgetb them
toMcad-
futnw

He whose
lot it will
be there
to sutler,
will itave
the belter
of hi 3
brother

ibie. Let nothing that is on this side the other
world get within you; and above all, look well to
your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof, for they
are deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked; set your faces like a flint; you have aU
power in Heaven and Earth on your side.

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhor-
tation, but told hira withal, that they would have him
speak farther to them for tlieir help the rest of the
way, and the rather, for that they well knew that
he was a Prophet, and could tell them of things
that might happen unto them, and also how they
might resist and overcome them. To which request
Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as
folio weth :

Evan. My Sons, you have heard, in the words
of the truth of the Gospel, that you must through
many tribulations enter into the Kingdom of
Heaven. And again, that in every City bonds and
afflictions abide in you; and therefore you cannot
expect that you should go long on your Pilgrimage
without them, in some sort or other. You have
found something of the truth of these testimonies
upon you already, and more will immediately follow;
for now, as you see, you are almost out of this Wil-
derness, and therefore you will soon come into
a Town that you will by and by see before you ; and
in that Town you will be hardly beset with enemies,
who will strain hard but they will kill you ; and be
ye sure that one or both of you must seal the testi-
mony which you hold, with blood; but be you faith-
ful unto death, and the King will give you a Crown
of life. He that shall die there, although his death
will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps great, he will
yet have the better of his fellow; not only because
he will be arrived at the Ccelestial City soonest, but
because he will escape many miseries that the other
will meet with in the rest of his Journey. But when
you are come to the Town, and shall find fulfilled
jvhat I have here related, then remember your

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

es

friend, and quit yourselves like men, and commit the
keeping of your souls to your God in well-doing, a»
unto a faithful Creator.

Then I saw in my Dream, that when they were
got out of the Wilderness, they presently saw a
Town before them, and the name of that Town is
yanity: and at the Town there is a Fair kept, called
Vanity Fair: it is kept all the year long ; it beareth
the name of yaniiy Fair, because the Town where
'tis kept is lighter than Vanity; and also because all
that ia there sold, or that eometh thither, is Vanity.
As is the saying of the wise. Ail that eometh is
Vanity.

This Fair is no new-erected business, hut a thing
of antient standing; I will shew you the original
of it.

Almost five thousand years agone, there were Thean-
Pilgrims walking to the Coslestial City, as these two ^^^%f
honest persons are; and Bcelccbub, Apollyon, and
Legion, with their Companions, perceiving by the
path that the Pilgrims made, that their way to the
City lay through this Town of Vanity, they con-
trived here to set up a Fair; a Fair wherein should
be sold all sorts of Vanity, and that it should last all
the year long: therefore at this Fair are all such
Merchandize sold, as Houses, Lands, Trades, Places,
Honours, Preferments, Titles, Countries, Kingdoms,
Lusts, Pleasures, and Delights of all sorts, as The mer-
Whores, Bawds, Wives, Husbands, Children, Mas- '^^^' "'
ters. Servants, Lives, Blood, Bodies, Souls, Silver,
Gold, Pearls, Precious Stones, and what not?

And moreover, at this Fair there is at all times to
be seen Jugglings, Cheats, Games. Plays, Fools,
Apes, Knaves, and Rogues, and that of every kind.

Here are to be seen too, and that for nothing,
Thefts, Murders, Adulteries, false-swearers, and
that of a blood-red colour.

And as in other Fairs of less moment, there Tbe sireet*
are the several Rows and Streets under their proper of ili" fan-
names, where such and such Wares are vended ; so

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Christ
went
through
this fair

Chriit
bought
QOIhing
in this fair

The Pil-
gTLnis enter
the fair

The fair

in A huh-
bub abglit
th l*^

here likewise you have the proper places, Rows,
Streets, (vis. Countries and Kingdoms) where tlie
Wares of this Fair are soonest to be tound: Here
is the Brilain Row, the French Row, the Italian
Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where
several sorts of Vanities are to be sold. But as in
Other Fairs, some one commodity is as the chief
of all the Fair, so the ware of Rome and her Mer-
chandize is greatly promoted in this Fair; only
our English nation, with some others, have taken
a dislike thereat.

Now, as I said, the way to the Coslestial City lies
just through this "^own where this lusty Fair is
kept ; and he that will go to the City, and yet not
go through tliis Town, must needs go out of the
world. The Prince of Princes himself, when here,
went through this Town to his own Country, and
that upon a Fair-day too; yea, and as I think, it was
Beelsebub, the chief Lord of this Fair, that invited
him to buy of his Vanities: yea, would have made
him Lord of the Fair, would he but have done him
reverence as he went through the Town, Yea, be-
cause he was such a person of honour, Beelsebub
had hiro from Street to Street, and shewed him all
the Kingdoms of the World in a little time, that he
might, (if possible) allure that Blessed One to
cheapen and buy some of his Vanities; but he had
no mind to the Merchandize, and therefore left the
Town, witliout laying out so much as one Farthing
upon these Vanities, This Fair therefore is an
antieht thing, of long standing, and a very great
Fair,

Now these Pilgrims, as I said, must needs go
through this Fair. Well, so they did; but behold,
even as they entered into the Fair, all the people
in the Fair were moved, and the Town itself as it
were in a hubbub about them; and that for several
reasons: for

First, The Pilgrims were cloathed with such
kind of Raiment as was diverse from the Raiment

PILGRIJfS PROGRESS

95

of any that traded in that Fair, The people there-
fore of the Fair made a great gazing upon them:
some said they were Foo!s, some they were Bed-
lams, and some they are Outlandishmen,

Secondly, And as they wondered at their Apparel,
so they did likewise at their Speech ; for few could
understand what they said: they naturally spoke the
language of Canaan, but they that kept the Fair
were the men of this World ; so that, from one end
of the Fair to the other, they seemed Barbarians
each to the otJier.

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse
the Merchandizers was, that these Pilgrims set very
light by al! their Wares, they cared not so much as
to look upon them ; and if they called upon them
to buy, they would put their fingers in their ears,
and cry. Turn away mine eyes from beholding Van-
ity, and look upwards, signifying that their trade and
traffick was in Heaven.

One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriages
of the men, to say unto them. What will ye buy?
But they, looking gravely upon him, answered, iVe
buy the Truth. At that there was an occasion taken
to despise the men the more; some mocking, some
taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some
calling upon others to smite them. At last things
came to a hubbub and great stir in the Fair, inso-
much that all order was confounded. Now was
word presently brought to the Great One of the
Fair, who quickly came down and deputed some of
his most trusty friends to take those men into
examination, about whom the Fair was almost over-
turned. So the men were brought to examination;
and they that sat upon them, asked them whence
they came, whither they went, and what they did
there in such an unusual Garb ? The men told them
that they were Pilgrims and Strangers in the World,
and that they were going to their own Country,
which was the Heavenly Jerusalem; and that they
bad given no occasion to the men of the Town, nor

Tbe firat
caair of
tbe hubbub

Secood
tJic hubbub

Third
cause of
the hubbub

Fount
cause dE
ihc hubbub

They are
lUQcked

The fair in
a hubbub

They are
examined

They tell
who Ihtjr
are, and
whence
iheycame

fsrS PROGRESS

Tbey sic

not

beiieted

Tbeyire
put in
tbccacc

yet to the MerchandiEcrs, thus to abuse them, and
to let them in their Journey, except it was for that,
when one asked them what they would buy, they
said they would buy the Truth. But they that were
appointed to examine them did not believe them to
be any other than Bedlams and Mad, or else such
as came to put all things into a confusion in the
Fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and
besmeared thera with dirt, and then put them into
the Cage, that they might be made a spectacle to
all the men of the Fair.

Tbeir be-

Iwvigui In
the cage

The HUTU
ef the fair
■Jo fall oat
anrong
tbf msclTm
about these
two men

Bebold Vanity Fair, tbe PilEriras there

Are cbained and stand beside:
Even ID it was our Lord passed here.

And on Mount Calvary died.

There therefore they lay for some time, and"
were made the objects of any man's sport, or
malice, or revenge, the Great One of the Fair
laughing still at all that befell them. But the
men being patient, and not rendring railing for
railing, but contrariwise blessing, and giving good
words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some
men in the Fair that were more observing, and less
prejudiced than the rest, began to cheek and blame
the baser sort for their continual abuses done by
Iheni to the men ; they therefore in angry manner
let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the
men in the Cage, and telling them that they seemed
confederates, and should be made partakers of their
misfortunes. The other replied, that for ought they
could see, the men were quiet, and sober, and in-
tended nobody any harm; and that there were many
that traded in their Fair that were more worthy to
be put into the Cage yea, and Pillory too. than were
the men that they had abused. Thus, after divers
words had passed on both sides, (the men behaving
(themselves all the while very wisely and soberly
before thetn) they fell to some blows among them-
selves, and did harm to one another. Then were

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

S7

&cse two poor men brought before their examiners
again, and there charged as being guilty of the late
hubbub that had been in the Fair. So they beat
them pitifully and hanged irons upon them, and led
thera in chains up and down the Fair, for an ex-
ample and a terror to others, lest any should speak
in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But
CkrisHan and Faithful behaved themselves yet more
wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that
was cast upon them, with so much meekness and
patience, that it won to their side (though but few
in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the
Fair. This put the other parly yet into a greater
rage, insomudi that they concluded the death of
these two men. Wlierefore they threatened, that the
Cage, nor irons should serve their turn, but that they
should die, for the abuse they had done, and for de-
luding the men of the Fair.

Then were they re-nianded to the Cage again,
until further order should be taken with them. So
they put them in, and made their feet fast in the
Stocks.

Here also they called again to mind what they
had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and
were the more confirmed in their way and suffer-
ings, by what he told them would happen to them.
They also now comforted each other, that whose lot
it was to suffer, even he should have the best on't ;
therefore each man secretly wished that he might
have that preferment: hut committing themselves to
the All-wise dispose of Him that ruleth all things,
with much content they abode in the condition in
which they were, imtil they should be otherwise dis-
posed of.

Then a convenient time being appointed, they
brought them forth to their Tryal, in order to their
condemnation. When the time was come, they were
brought before their enemies, and arraigned. The
Judge's name was Lord Hategood. Their Indict-
ment was one and the same in substance, though

HO— Vol. 10 — t

They ire

made the
authoTE
of Ibis dJB-
turbADOc

They arc
led up and
dawn the
fair ia
chainb, far
■ terror
Fo othm

Some of
the me a o£
the fair
von to
tbem

Thdr
adversaries
reioJve to
kill them

They are
again put
iolo the
cagr. and
after
brought
tn trial

PILGRIM'S

Thtir

somewhat varying in form, the contents .whereS?
was this:

That they uiere enemies to and disturbers of their

tadituatnt Trade ;thai they had made Commotions ondDivisioHs

<« the Town, and had won a party to their own most

dangerous Opinions in contempt of the Law of their

Prince.

Now Faithful play the Man, speak for thy Cod :
Fear not the wicked's malice, nor their mdj
Speak boldly man, the Truth ia on thy side;
Die for it, and to Life in triumph ride.

Faithful's Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only
Sldl''"^ set himself against that which had set itself against
Him that is higher than the highest. And said he,
as for Disturbance, I make none, being myself a
man of Peace; the parties that were won to us,
were won by beholding our Truth and Innocence,
and they are only turned from the worse to the
belter. And as to the King you talk of, since he
19 Beelzebub, the enemy of Our Lord, I defy him
and all his Angels,

Then Proclamation was made, that they that had
ought to say for their Lord the King against the
Prisoner at the Bar, should forthwith appear and
give in their evidence. So there came in three wit-
nesses, to wit. Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank.
They were then asked if they knew the Prisoner at
the Bar; and what they had to say for their Lord
the King against him.

Then stood forth Emiy, and said to this effect :
My lord, I have known this man a long lime, and
will attest upon my Oath before this honourable
Bench, that he is —
Judge. Hold! Give him his Oath.
So they aware him. Then he said, My Lord, this
man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of
the vilest men in our Country. He neither re-
gardeth Prince nor People, Law nor Custom; but
doth all that he can to possess all men with certain

Envy
begins

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

of his disloyal notions, which he in the general calls
Principles of Faith and Hoiiness. And in partic-
ular, I heard him once myself affirm That Chrislian-
ity and the Customs of our Town of Vanity were
diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled.
By which saying, my Lord, he doth at once not only
condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing
of them.

Judge. Then did the Judge say to him. Hast thou
anymore to say?

Envy. My Lord, I could say much more, only I
would not be tedious to the Court. Yet if need be,
■when the other Gentlemen have given in their Evi-
dence, rather than anything shall be wanting that
will dispatch him, I will enlarge my Testimony
against him. So he was bid stand by.

Then they called Superstition, and hid him look
upon the Prisoner. They also asked, what he could
say for their Lord the King against him? Then
they sware him; so he began:

Super. My Lord, I have no great acquaintance supcrsti-
with this man, nor do I desire to have further knowl- J"""
edge of him; however, this I know, that he is a very
pestilent fellow, from some discourse that the other
day I had with him in this Town ; for then talking
■with him, I heard him say, That our Religion was
naught, and such by which a man could by no means
please God. Which sayings of his, my Lord, your
Lordship very well knows, what necessarily thence
will follow, to wit. That we still do worship in vain,
are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned; and
this is that which I have to say.

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he
knew, in behalf of their Lord the King, against the
Prisoner at the Bar.

Pick. My Lord, and you Gentlemen all. This fel- Pickthank"i
low I have known of a long time, and have heard °' °°'
him speak things that ought not to be spoke; for
he hath railed on our noble Prince Beelzebub, and
hath spoken contemptibly of his honourable

Siniare

oil lorib.
and GTCAt

Faithful's
cJL fence of
taimleU

Friends, whose names are the Lord Old Man, tti'e
Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Ltixurious, the Lord
Desire of Voin Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir
Having Greedy, with all the rest of our Nobility ; and
he hath said moreover. That if all men were of his
mind, if possible, there is not one of these Noble
men should have any longer a being in this Town ;
besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my
Lord, who arc now appointed to be his Judge, call-
ing you an ungodly villain, with many other such-
like viUfying terms, with which he hath bespattered
most of the Gentry of our Town.

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the Judge
directed his speech to the Prisoner at the Bar, say-
ing, Thou Runagate, Heretick, and Traitor, hast
thou heard what these honest Gentlemen have wit-
nessed against thee?

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own
defence ?

JoiiGE. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservedst to live no
longer, but to be slain immediately upon the place ;
yet that all men may see our gentleness towards
thee, let us see what thou hast to say.

Faith, i. I say then, in answer to what Mr.
Envy hath spoken, I never said ought but this, T/ki/
wSuit Rule, or Laivs, or Custom, or People, were Hat
against the Word of God, arc diametrically opposite
to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, con-
vince me of my error, and I am ready here before
you to make my recantation.

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and
his charge against me, I said only this. That in
the worship of God there is required a Divine Faith;
but there can be no Diznne Faith willwut a Divine
Revelation of the -will of God: therefore ufhatever
is thrust into the Worship of God that « not
agreeable to Divine Revelation, cannot be done but
by a human faith, which faitk will not be profit
to Eternal Life.

3. As to what Mr. Picklhank hath said, I say.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

101

(avoiding terms, as Liat I am said to rail, and
the like) that the Prijce of this Town, with all the
rabblement his atteiidanls,/bv. this Gentleman
named, are more fit for a bei^iir in Hell, than in
this Town and Country: and so^' the' Lord have
mercy upon me. ■ '

Then the Judge called to the Jury (who a'J this The
while stood by, to hear and observe) Gentlemen oi j^**;?^,.
the Jury, you see tliis man about whom so great an it* jar/- '
uproar hath been made in this Town i you have also ' ' .

heard what these worthy Gentlemen have witnessed
against him: also you have heard his reply and
confession : It lieth now in your breasts to hang him,
or save his life; but yet I think meet to instruct you
into our Law,

There was an Act made in the days of Pharaoh
the Great, Servant to our Prince, that lest those of
a contrary Religion should multiply and grow too
strong for him, their Males should be thrown into
the river. There was also an Act made in the days
of Nehuchadnessar the Great, another of his Ser-
vants, that whoever would not fall down and wor-
ship his Golden Image, should be thrown into a
Fiery Furnace. There was also an Act made in the
days of Darius, that whoso, for some time, called
upon any God but him, should be cast into the
Lions' Den, Now the substance of these Laws this
Rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is
not to he borne) but also in word and deed; which
must therefore needs be intolerable.

For that of Pharaoh, his Law was made upon a
supposition, to prevent mischief, no Crime being
yet apparent; but here is a Crime apparent. For
the second and third, you see he disputeth against
our Rejigion; and for the Treason he hath con-
fessed, he deserveth to die the death.

Then went the Jury out, whose names were, Mr Thejnry,
Blind-man, Mr No-good, Mr Malice. Mr Love-hist, "ndthdr
Mr Live-loose, Mr Heady, Mr High-mind, Mr """"
Enmity, Mr Lyar, Mr Cruelty, Mr Hate-light, and

w

Every

fiivMc
TCidiet

Thercon-
eludito
bring hiiD

Df desth

Theemd
death of
Paithful

A cfaariol

and hara^
wait to
take sway
Faitbful

PROGRESS

Mr Implacable; who every one gave in his privaf
Verdict against him artinng themselves, and after-
wards unanimously, cetidiided to bring him in guilty
before the J.U(lg.e!.. Aiid first among themselves, Mr
Biind-tiMi^iftc Poretnan, said, / see cltarly that this
.man ii_a».Heretick. Then said Mr No-good, Away
with jTicft a fellow from the earth. Ay, said Mr
Malice, for 1 hale the very looks of kim. Then said
Mr Love-hist, I could never endure him. Nor I,
said Mr Live-loose, for he would always be con-
demning my way. Hang kim, hang him, said Mr
Heady. A sorry Scrub, said Mr High-mind. My
heart risetk against him, said Mr Enmity. He is a
Rogue, said Mr Lyar. Hanging is too good for
him, said Mr Cruelty. Let us dispatch him out of
the way, said Mr Hate-light. Then said Mr Im-
placable, Might I have all the world giz'en me, I
could not be reconciled to him; therefore let uf
forthwith bring him in guilty of death. And SO they
did; therefore he was presently condemned to be
had from the place where he was, to the place from
whence he came, and there to be put to the most
cruel death that could be invented.

They therefore brought him out, to do with him
according to their Law; and first they Scourg«d
him, then they Buffeted him, then they Lanced his
flesh with Knives ; after that they Stoned hira with
stones, then pricked him with their Swords; and
last of all they burned him to ashes at the Stake.
Thus came Faithful to his end.

Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude
a Chariot and a couple of Horses, waiting for Faith-
ful, who (so soon as his adversaries had dispatched
him) was taken up into it, and straitway was carried
up through the Clouds, with sound of Trumpet, the
nearest way to the Ctrlestial Gate.

Breve Fatthful, brRvelj' done in word and deed;
Judge, Witnesses, and Jury llftve, instead
Of overcoming thee, but shewn their rage:
When tiiejr are Dead, thoult Live from age to age.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

m

The SoHg
Umt Chris-
liiin uiadd
of Faithful
af tf^r his
dealii

ChiiBtiaii

has

another

But as for Christian, he had some respite, and Christian
was remanded back to prison; so he there remained "^stiiiaUve
for 3 space : But he that over-rules al! things, hav-
ing the power of their rage in liis own hand, so
wrought it about, that Christian for that time es-
caped them, and went his way. And as he went he
sang, saying,

Weli Faithful, thou hast faitlifully profest
Unto thy Lord; with ■whom thou shaJt be blest,
When faitkUss ones, with all their vain delights.
Are crjdng: cut under their hellish plights:
Siag, Faithful, sing, aud lei Iby uama i^urvlve;
For though they kill'd thee, thuu Mt yet alive.

Kow I saw in my Dream, that Christian went not

forth alone, for there was one whose name was
Hopeful, (being made so by the beholding of Chris-
tian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in
their sufferings at the Fair) who joined himself
tinto him, and etitring into a brotherly covenant, told
him that he would be his Companion. Thus one
died to make Testimony to the Truth, and another
rises out of his ashes to be a Companion with
Christian in his Pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told
Christian, that there were many more of the men in
the Fair that would take their time and follow after.

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of
tlic Fair, they overtook one that was going before
ihem, whose name was By-ends: so they said to
him. What Country-man, Sir? and how far go you
this way? He told them that he came from the
Town of Fair-speech, and he was going to the
Ccelestial City, (but told ihem not his name.)

From Fair-speech, said Christian. Is there any
good that lives there?

By-ends. Yes, said By-ends, I hope.

Che. Pray Sir, what may I call you?

By-ends. I am a Stranger to you, and you to me :
if you be going this way, I shall be glad of your
company; if not, I must be content.

Chb. This Town of Fair-speech, said Chrislitm,

There are
Thore of
Ihe men of
ihc Fair
will fall aw

They

ovettalte

By-cads

By-eods

loath to
lell his

IM

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Tbf wife
and kiQ'
drcd af
Sr-cnds

By-ends
differs
from
□tbers in
itligToii

I have heard of it, and, as I remember, they say
it's a wealthy place.

By-eniis. Yes, I will assure you that it is; and I
have very many rich Kindred there.

Chr. Pray, who are your Kindred there? if a man
may be so bold.

By-ENDs. Almost the whole Town; and in par-
ticular, my Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server,
my Lord Fair-speech, (from whose ancestors that
Town first took its name) also Mr Smooth'tnaii,
Mr Facing-both-ways, Mr Anything; and the Par-
son of our Parish, Mr Two-tongues, was my
Mother's own Brother by Father's side; and to tell
you the truth, I am become a Gentleman of good
Quality, yet my Great Grandfather was but a water-
man, looking one way and rowing another; and I
got most of my estate by the same occupation.

Chr. Are you a married man?

By-ends. Yes, and my Wife is a very vertuous
woman, the Daughter of a vertuous woman ; she was
my Lady Feigning's Daughter, therefore she came
of a very honourable Family, and is arrived to such
a pitch of breeding, that she knows how to carry it
to all, even to Prince and Peasant. 'Tis true we
somewhat differ in Rehgion from those of the
stricter sort, yet but in two small points: First, we
never strive against Wind and Tide: Secondly, we
are always most zealous when Religion goes in his
Silver Slippers ; we love much to walk with him in
the Street, if the Sun shines, and the people applaud
him.

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow
Hopeful, saying. It runs in my mind that this is one
By-ends of Fair-speech, and if it be he, we have as
very a Knave in our company as dwelleth in all
these parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks
he should not be ashamed of his name. S(f Christian
came up with him again, and said. Sir, you talk as
if you knew something; more than all the world
doth; and if I lake not my mark amiss. I deem I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS IK

have half a guess of you: Is not your name Mr
By-ends of Fair-speech^

By-ends. This is not my name, but indeed it is a
nick-name that is given me by some that cannot
abide me; and I must be content to bear it as a re-
proach, as other good men have borne theirs before
me.

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men
to call you by this name?

By-ends. Never, never! The worst that ever I How
did to give them an occasion to give me this name, go't ii^
was, that I had always the luck to jump in my name
Judgment with the present way of the times what-
ever it was, and my chance was to get thereby ; but
if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them
a blessing, but let not the maHcious load me there-
fore with reproach.

Chr. I thought indeed that you were the man
that I heard of, and to tell you what I think, I fear
this name belongs to you more properly than you
are willing we should think it doth.

Bv-ENDS. Weil, if you will thus iiragine, I cannot He desire*
help it; you shall find me a fair company-keeper, if ^"^p^^
you will still admit me your associate. with

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against Chriatian
Wind and Tide, the which, I perceive, is against
your opinion; you must also own Religion in his
Rags, as well as when in his Silver Slippers, and
stand by him too, when bound in Irons, as well as
.when he walketh the Streets with applause.

By-ends. You must not impose, nor lord it over
ray Faith; leave me to my liberty, and let me go
with you.

Chr. Not a step further, unless yon will do in
what I propound, as we.

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old
Principles, since they are harmless and proStable,
If I may not go with you, I must do as I did before
you overtook me, even go hy myself, until some
overtake me that will be glad of my company.

106

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Hy-cnd*
and Chrii-
Lian put

IIchM
new con-
pin iona

Br-ends'

ef the
piliriat

Now I saw in my Dream that Christian and Hope-
ful forsook him, and kept iheir distance before him;
but one of them looking back, saw three men follow-
ing Mr By-ends, and behold, as they came lip with
him, he made them a very low congee, and they also
gave him a compliment. The men's names were
Mr Hold-lhe-world, Mr Money-love, and Mr Saz'e-
all; men that Mr By-ends had formerly been ac-
quainted with; for in their minority they were
School-fellows, and were taught by one Mr Gripe-
man, a School-master in Love-gain, which is a
Market-lown in the County of Coveting, in the
North. This School-master taught them the Art
of Getting, either by violence, cousenage, flattery,
lying, or by putting on a guise of Religion ; and these
four Gentlemen had attained much of the Art of
their Master, so that they could each of them have
kept such a School themselves.

Well when they had. as I said, thus saluted each
other. Mr Money-lovi' said to Mr By-ends, Who are
they upon the Road before us? For Christian and
Hoptful were yet within view.

By-ends- They are a couple of far country-men,
ihat after tli^r mode arc going on Pilgrimage.

MofiEY-LOVE, Alas! WTiy did ihey not slay, that
we mi^t have had their good company? for they,
and we. and you Sir, 1 hope are all going on a
Pilgrimage.

Br-ENre. We are so indeed; but the men before
tis are so rigid, and love so much their own notions,
and do also go lightly esteem the opinions of others,
that let a man be never so godly, yet if he jumps
not with them in alt Uiings, they thmst him quite
ost of tbdr company.

Sate-au- That's bad: bHt we read of some that
uv rightetrHiS ovtrmHck; «nd sach men's rigidness
prev^ls with them to jwdp and c on de mn all but
Ibeoisdves. Bat 1 pray tskat, and hate many, were
tbe thiaes wbcrein yen dtfTcred?

Bt-ehss. Wbjr tbey after dacir bead-strane mil-

PILGaiM'S PROGRESS

187

ner, conclude that it is duty to rush on their Journey
all weathers, and I am for waiting for Wind and
Tide. They are for haiarding all for God at a clap,
and I am for taking all advantages to secure my
Life and Estate. They are for holding their no-
tions, though all other men are against them; but
I am for Religion in what, and so far as the times
and my safety will bear it. They arc for Religion
when in Rags and Contempt; but I am for him
when he walks in his Golden Slippers in the Sun-
shine, and with applause.

Houj-T HE- WORLD, Ay, and hold you there still,
good Mr By-ends; for for my part I can count him
but a Fool, that having the liberty to keep what he
has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise
as Serpents; 'tis best to make hay when the Sun
shines; you see how the Bee lieth still all winter,
and bestirs her only when she can have Profit with
Pleasure. God sends sometimes Rain, and some-
times Snn-shine; if they be such fools to go through
the 5rst, yet let us be content to take fair weather
along with us. For my part I like that Religion
beat that will stand with the security of God's good
blessings unto us; for who can imagine that is
ruled by his Reason, since God has bestowed upon
us the good things of this Life, but that he would
bave us keep them for his sake? Abraham and
Solomon grew rich in Religion. And Job says, that
a good man shall lay up Gold as Dust. But he must
not be such as the men before us, if they be as yon
have described them.

SAVE-ALt. I think that we are all agreed in this
matter, and therefore there needs no more words
about it.

MoNEY-LovE. No, there needs no more words
about this matter indeed ; for he that believes neither
Scripture nor Reason (and you see we have both
on our side) neither knows his own liberty, nor
seeks his own safety,

Bv-ENDS. My Brethren, we are, as yoa see, go-

IM

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

ing all on Piigrimage ; and for our better diversioit
from things that are bad, give me leave to pro-
pound unto you this question :

Suppose a man, a Minister, or a Tradesman. &c.
should have an advantage lie before hiiu to get the
good blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by
ao means come by them, except in appearance at
least, he becomes extraordinary zealous in some
points of Religion that he meddled not with before;
may he not use this means to attain his end, and
yet be a right honest man?

MoKEY-LOVE. I see the bottom of your question,
and, with these Gentlemen's good leave, I will en-
deavour to shape you an answer. And first, to
speak to your question as it concerns a Minister
himself: Suppose a Minister, a worthy man, pos-
sess'd but of a very small benefice, and has in his
eye a greater, more fat and plump by far; he has
also now an opportunity of getting of it, yet so as
by being more studious, by preaching more fre-
quently and zealously, and because the temper of the
people requires it, by altering of some of his prin-
ciples; for my part I see no reason but a man may
do this, (provided he has a Call) ay, and more a
great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. For
why?

1, Hia desire of greater benefice is lawful
(this cannot be contradicted since 'tis set before
hira by Providence) ; so then he may get it
if he can, making no question for Conscience
sake.

2, Besides, his desire after that benefice makes
him more studious, a more zealous Preacher, &c.
and so makes him a better man ; yea makes him
better improve his parts, which is according to the
Mind of God.

3, Now as for his complying with the temper of
his people, by dissenting, to serve them, some of
his Principles, this argueth, i. That he is of a self-
denying temper; 2, Of a sweet and winning deport-

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

109

ment; 3. And so more fit for the Ministerial func-
tion.

4. I conclude then, that a Minister that changes
a small for a great, should not for so doing be
judged as covetous; but rather, since he has im-
proved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted
as one that pursues his Call, and the opportunity
put into his hand to do Good.

And now to the second part of the question, which
concerns the Tradesman you mentioned. Suppose
such an one to have but a poor imploy in the world,
but by becoming Religious, he may mend his Market,
perhaps get a rich Wife, or more and far better
Customers to his shop ; for my part I see no reason
but this may be lawfully done. For why?

1. To become Religious is a Virtue, by what
means soever a man becomes so,

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich Wife, or more
Custom to my Shop.

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming
religious, gets that which is good of them that are
good, by becoming good himself; so then here is a
good Wife, and good Customers, and good Gain,
and all these by becoming religious, which is good;
therefore to become religious to get all these, is
a good and profitable design.

This answer thus made by this Mr Money-love to
Mr By-ends' question was highly applauded by
them all ; wherefore they concluded upon the whole
that it was most wholesome and advantageous. And
because, as they thought, no man was able to con-
tradict it, and because Christian and Hopeful were
yet within call, they jointly agreed to assault thera
with the question as soon as they overtook them,
and the rather because they had opposed Mr By-
ends before. So they called after them, and they
stopt, and stood still til! they came up to them;
but they concluded as they went that not Mr By-
ends^ but old Mr Hold-fhe-world, should propound
the question to them, because, as they supposed, their

XIO

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

answer to him would be without the remainder of
that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr By-endi
and them, at their parting a little before.

So they came up to each other, and after a short
salutation, Mr Hold-the-tuorld propounded the ques-
tion to Christian and his fellow, and bid them to
answer it if they could.

Chr. Then said Christian, Even a babe in Re-
ligion may answer ten thousand such questions.
For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves,
as it is John 6. how much more abominable is it
to make of him and Religion a Stalking-horse, to
get and enjoy the world. Nor do we find any other
than Heathens, Hypocrites, Devils, and Witches,
that are of this opinion,

1. Heathens; for when Hamor and Shechem had
3 mind to the Daughter and Cattle of Jacob, and
saw that there was no ways for them to come
at them, but by becoming circumdsed; they
said to their companions, If every male of us
be circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not
their Cattle, and their substance, and every beast of
theirs, be ours? Their Daughter and their Cattle
were that which they sought to obtain, and their
Religion the Stalking-horse they made use of to
corae at them. Read the whole story, Geti. 34. 30,
2t, 22, 33.

2. The Hypocritical Pharisees were also of this
Religion; Long Prayers were their Pretence, but
to get widows' houses was their Intent; and greater
damnation was from God their Judgment, Luke 20.
46, 47.

3. Judas the Devil was also of this Religion ; he
was religious for the Bag, that he might be pos-
sessed of what was therein; but he was lost, cast
away, and the very son of Perdition.

4. Simon the Witch was of this Religion too; for
he would have had the Holy Ghost, thai he might
have got Money therewith, and his sentence from
Peter's mouth was according, Acts S, I9, 20, 21, 22.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that
man that takes up Religion for the World, will throw
away Religion for the World; for so surely as
Judas designed the World in becoming religious,
so surely did he also sell Religion and his Master
for the same. To answer the question therefore af-
firmatively, as 1 perceive you have done, and to ac-
cept of as authentick such answer, is both Heathen-
ish, Hypocritical, and Devilish, and your Reward
will be according to your Works. Then they stood
staring one upon another, but had not wherewith to
answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of the
soundness of Christian's answer ; so there was a
great Silence among them. Mr By-ends and his
company also staggered and kept behind, that Chris-
tian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said
Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot stand
before the sentence of men, what will they do witli
the sentence of God? And if they are mute when
dealt with by vessels of Clay, what will they do
when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a
devouring Fire?

Then Christian and Hopeful out-went them again,
and went till they came to a delicate Plain called
Ease, where they went with much content; but that
Plain was but narrow, so they were quickly got
over it. Now at the further side of that Plain
was a little Hill called Lucre, and in that Hill a
Silver-Mine, which some of them tliat had formerly
gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned
aside to see ; but going too near the brink of the pit,
the ground being deceitful under them, broke, and
they were slain : some also had been maimed there,
and could not to their dying day be their own men
again.

Then I saw in my Dream, that a little off the road,
over against the Silver-Mine, stood Detnas (gentle-
manlike) to call to Passengers to come and see ; who
said to Christian and his fellow, Ho, turn aside
hither, and I will shew you a thing.

The IBse
that pil-
EriT]i& have
is butlitllc
in (hia life

Lucre Hill
a danger-
ous blU

Demas at
the Hill
Lucre. He
calls 10
Christian
and Hope-
ful lo coma

lU

PILORIH'S PROGRESS

Bopeful
tempted
to so. but

Christian
holds hiin
Ucic

Christiin
Tflundctii
up Demas

Chb. Wtat thing so deserving as to turn us out
of the way ?

Demas. Here is a Silver-Mine, and some digging
in it for Treasure. If you will come, with a little
pains you may richly provide for yourselves.

Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.

Che. Not I, said Christian; I have heard of this
place before now, and how many have there been
slain; and besides that Treasure ts a snare to those
that seek it, for it hindereth them in their Pilgrim-
age. Then Christian called to Demas, saying. Is
not the place dangerous? Hath it not hindred
many in their Pilgrimage?

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that
are careless ; but withal, he blushed as he spake.

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not
stir a step, but still keep on our way.

Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes
up, if he hath the same invitation as we, he will
turn in thither to see.

Chb. No doubt thereof, for his Principles lead him
that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there.

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But
will you not come over and see?

Chr, Then Christian roundly answered, saying,
Detnas, thou art an Enemy to the right ways of
the Ixird of this way, and hast been already con-
demned for thine own turning aside, by one of his
Majesties Judges; and why seekest thou to bring
us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all
turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear
thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we
would stand with boldness before him.

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their
fraternity; and that if they would tarry a little, he
also himself would walk with thetn.

Chb. Then said Christian. What is thy name? Is
it not the same by the which I have called thee?

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas, I am the San
of Abraham.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

113

Chr. I know you. Gekati was your Great Grand-
father, and Judas your Father, and you have trod
in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou
usest ; thy Father was hanged for a Traitor, and thou
deservest no better reward Assure thyself, that
when we come to the King, we will do him word
of this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.

By this time By-ends and his Companions were Bynmib
come again within sight, and they at the first beck j°q,^^
went over to Demas. Now whether they fell into
the Pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether
they went down to dig, or whether they were
smothered in the bottom by the damps that com-
monly arise, of these things I am not certain : but
this I observed, that they never were seen again
tn the way. Then sang Christian,

By-tndi and Silver Dimas both Agree ;
One calls, the other runs, that be may be
A Sharer m his Lucre ; so these do
Take up ia this ^orld, and no further go.

Now I saw, that just on the other side of thisTheyiee*
Plain, the Pilgrims came to a place where stood ^^"^gm
an old Monument, hard by the High -way-side, at
the sight of which they were both concerned, be-
cause of the strangeness of the form thereof; for
it seemed to them as if it had been a Woman trans-
formed into the shape of a Pillar ; here therefore
they stood looking and looking upon it, but could
not for a time tell what they should make thereof.
At last Hopeful espied written above upon the head
thereof, a writing in an unusual hand: but he be-
ing no Scholar, called to Christian (for he was
learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning;
80 he came, and after a little laying of letters to-
gether, he found the same to be this, Remember Lot's
Wife, So he read it to his fellow; after which they
both concluded that that was the Pillar of Salt into
which Lot's Wife was turned, for her looking back
witti a cavetovs heart, when she was going from

m

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Sodom for safety. Which sudden and amazing sight
gave them occasion of this discourse.

Chb. Ah my Brother, this is a seasonable sight;
it came opportunely to us after the invitation which
Demas gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre;
and had we gone over as he desired us, and as thou
wast inclining to do, my Brother, we had, for ought
I know, beea made ourselves like this Woman, a
spectacle for those that shall come after to behold.

Hope. I am sorry that I was bo foolish, and aui
made to wonder that 1 am not now as Lot's Wife ;
for wherein was the difference 'twixt her sin and
mine? she only looked back, and I had a desire to
go see: let Grace be adored, and let me be ashamed
that ever such a thing should be in mine heart.

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for
our help for time to come : This woman escaped
one Judgment, for she fell not by the destruction
of Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another, as we
see she is turned into a Pillar of Salt.

Hope. True, and she may be to us both Caution
and Example; caution, that we should shun her
sin, or a sign of what Judgment will overtake euch
as shall not be prevented by this caution : so Korak,
Dathatt, and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty
men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign
or example to others to beware. But above all, I
muse at one thing, to wit, how Dcmas and his fellows
can stand so confidently yonder to look for that
treasure, which this Woman, but for looking behind
her after (for we read not that she stept one foot
out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt;
especially since the Judgment which overtook her
did make her an example, within sight of where
they are: for they cannot chuse but see her, did
they but lift up their eyes.

Cur. It is 2 thing to be wondered at, and it
argueth that their hearts are gTo\vn desperate in
the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them
to 80 fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

lU

presence of the Judge, or that will cut purses under
the GaUovvs. It is said of the men of Sodom, That
Ikcy were sinners exceedingly, because they were
sinners before the Lord; that is, in his eye-sight, and
notwithstanding the kindnesses that he had shewed
them ; for the land of Sodom was now, like the
Garden of Eden heretofore. This therefore pro-
voked him the more to jealousy, and made their
plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of Heaven
could make it. And it is most rationally to be con-
cluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall
sin in the sight, yea, and that too in despite of such
examples that are set continually before them, to
caution them to the contrary, must be partakers
of severest Judgments.

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but
what a mercy is it, tliat neither thou, but especially
I, am not made myself this example: this miniatreth
occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him,
and always to remember Lot's Wife.

I saw then that they went on their way to a A river
pleasant River, which David the King called the
River of God, but John, the River of the Water of
Life. Now their way lay just upon the bank of the
River; here therefore Christian and his Companion
walked with great delight; they drank also of the
water of the River, which was pleasant and enliven-
ing to their weary spirits: besides, on the banks of
this River on either side were green Trees, that bore Tr«shy
all manner of Fruit ; and the Leaves of the Trees '^^ '""•
were good for Medicine ; with the Fruit of these Trees and invts
they were also much delighted; and the Leaves they of 'he trees
ate to prevent Surfeits, and other Diseases that are
incident to those that heat their blood by Travels.
On either side of the River was also a Meadow,
curiously beautiful with Lilies; and it was green
all the year long. In this Meadow they lay down a meadow
and slept, for here they might lie down safely. '"'^'"^^^
When they awoke, they gathered again of the Fruit down'io
of the Trees, and drank agaiti of the water of Uie s'eep

ue

PILGRIM'S PROGHESS

River, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they
did several days and nights. Then they sang,

Behold ye how these CriBt&l streams do glide,

(To conifort Pilgriins) by the High- way aide ;

The MeaJ<.ws green, beside their fragrant smell,

Yield daiotins for them : And he that can tell

What pleasant fruit ; yea Leaves, these Trees do yield,

Will soon sell all, that he may bay ihls Geid.

So when they were disposed to go on (for they
were not as yet al their Journey's end) they eat
and drank, and departed.

Now I beheld in my Dream, that they had not
journeyed far, but the River and the way for a
time parted : at whidi they were not a little sorry,
yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the
way from the River was rough, and their feet tender
by reason of their Travels ; so the soul of the Pil-
grims ■was much discouraged because of the way.
Wherefore still as they went on, they wished for
better way. Now a litUe before them, there was on
the left hand of the road a Meadow, and a Stile to
Oneiemp- go over into it, and that Meadow is called By-path-
SakT«r J^^^<"*''«'- Then said Christian to his fellow, If this
for another Meadow licth along by our way-side, let's go over
into it. Then he went to the Stife to see, and be-
hold a Path lay along by the way on the other side
of the fence. 'Tis according to my wish, said Chris~
tian, here is the easiest going ; come good Hopeful,
and let us go over.

Hope. But how if this Path should lead us out of
the way ?

Chr. That's not like, said the other; look, doth

it not go along by the way-side? So Hopeful,

weak onej being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over
ttcwly t**^ S\X\t. When they were gone over, and were
got into the Path, they found it very easy for their
feet: and withal, they looking before them, espied
a man walking as they did, {and his name was Vain-
conHdence) so they called after hira, and asked him
whither that way led? He said. To the Coelcstial

SiToa;
ChristEana
nay lead

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

117

Gate. Look, said Christian, did I not tell you so?
by this you may see we are right. So they followed,
and he went before them. But behold the night
came on, and it grew very dark, so thai they that
were behind lost the sight of him that went before.

He therefore that went before (Vain-conHdence
by name) not seeing the way before him, fell into
a deep Pit, which was on purpose there made by
the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious
fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall.

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall
So they called to know the matter, but there was
none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then
said Hopeful, Where are we now? Then was his
fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out
of the way ; and now it began to rain, and thunder,
and lighten in a very dreadful manner, and the
water rose amain.

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying. Oh
that I had kept on my way!

Chb. Who could have thought that this Path
should have led us out of the way?

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and
therefore gave you that gentle caution, I would
have spoken plainer, but that you are older than I.

Chh, Good Brother be not offended; I am sorry
I have brought tliee out of the way, and that I have
put thee into such imminent danger ; pray my
Brother forgive me, I did not do it of an evil intent.

Hope. Be comforted my brother, for I forgive
thee; and believe too that this shall be for our good.

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful
Brother ; but we must not stand thus, let's try to go
back again.

Hope. But good Brother let me go before.

Chr. No, if you please let me go first, that if there
be any danger, [ may be first therein, because by my
means we are both gone out of the way.

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first;
for your mind being troubled may lead you out of

See what
it ia tea
Buddtfnijr
to fall
in with
slrangerf

A pit to
CBith the
vaicfiEari-

OUBID

RcaHoning

between

Chrbtian

and

Hopeful

Christiin'i
repen lance
ioT leading
of bis
brother
out of
tbe inif

lU

PILGRIM'S PROORES8

The»»re
in danaer
at drowD-
inif as the J
BO bick

The; iIhd
in Ihe
tToanda
af GianI
Despair

He End*
■ hem in his

lad caities
them to
DaubliHB
Castle

The gricv-
ousne^a of
Iheir im-
prisonment

the way again. Then for their encouragement, they
heard the voice o£ one saying Let thine heart be
towards the High-way, even the way that thou went-
est, turn again. But fay this time the waters were
greatly risen; by reason of which they way of going
back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that
it is easier going out of the way when we are in,
than going in when we are out.) Yet they ad-
ventured to go back; but it was so dark, and the
flood was so high, that in their going back they had
like to have been drowned nine or ten times.

Neither could they, with all the skill they had.
get again to the Stile that night. Wherefore at
last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down
there till the day brake; but being weary, they
fell asleep. Now there was not far from the place
where they lay, a Castle called Doubting Castle, the
owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in
his grounds they were now sleeping: wherefore he,
getting up in the morning early, and walking up and
down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful
asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and
surty voice he bid them awake, and asked them
whence they were? and what they did in his
grounds? They told him they were Pilgrims, and
that they had lost their way. Then said the Giant,
You have tliis night trespassed on me, by trampling
in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you
must go along with me. So they were forced to go,
because he was stronger than they. They also had
but little to say, for they knew themselves in a
fault. The Giant therefore drove them before him,
and put them into his Castle, into a very dark Dun-
geon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two
men. Here then they lay from Wednesday morning
till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or
drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did;
they were therefore here in evil case, and were far
from friends and acquaintance. Now in this place
Christian had double sorrow, because 'twas through

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IH

his unadvised haste that they were brought into

this distress.

The Pilgrims now. to gratify the Flesh,
Will seek its Ease : but oh r how they afresh
Do thereby plunge themselves new Griefs tata I
Who »eok to please the flesh themselves undo.

Now Giant Despair had a Wife, and her name
was DifRdence. So when he was gone to bed, he
lold his Wife what he had done, to wit, that he had
taken a couple of Prisoners and cast them into his
Dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he
asked her also what he had best do further to them.
So she asked him what they were, whence they came,
and whither they were bound; and he told her.
Then she coimselled him that when he arose in the
morning he should beat them without any mercy. So
when he arose, he getteth him a grievous Crab-tree
Cudgel, and goes down into the Dungeon to them,
and there first fails to rating of them, as if they
were dogs, although they gave him never a word
of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats
them fearfully, in such sort, that they were not able
to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor.
This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to
condole their misery, and to mourn under their
distress: so all that day they spent the time in noth-
ing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next
night she talking with her Husband about them fur-
ther, and understanding that they were yet alive,
did advise him to counsel them to make away them-
selves. So when morning was come, he goes to
them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving
them to be very sore with the stripes that he had
given them the day before, he told them, that since
they were never like to come out of that place, their
only way would be forthwith to make an end of
themselves, either with Knife, Halter, or Poison;
For why, said he, should you chuse life, seeing it is
attended with so much bitterness? But they desired

On Thurs-
day. Giant
Despair
bdtK hla
prisoners

On Friday,

Giant

Despair

coanse]^

them to kill

themaelTes

no

PILGRISrS PROGRESS

ChHfiliaa

ctuihed

Hopeful
comforli
lum

The GUtit him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon
i™eiime» (hem, and rushing to them had doubtless made
at) end of them himself, but that he fell into one of
his Fits, (for he sometimes in Sun-shine weather
felJ into Fits) and lost for st time the use of his
hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as
before, to consider what to do. Then did the
Prisoners consult between themselves, whether 'twas
best to take his counsel or no ; and thus they began
to discourse :

Chr. BrotJier, said Christian, what shall we do?
The life that we now live is miserable: for my part
I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die out
of hand. My soul chuselh strangling rather Ikatt
life, and the Grave is more easy for me than this
Dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the Giant?

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful,
and death would be far more welcome to mc than
thus for ever to abide; but yet let as consider, the
Lord of the Country to which we are going hath
said, Thou shalt do no murder, no not to another
man's person; much more then are we forbidden to
take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that
kills another can but commit murder upon his body;
but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul
at once. And moreover, my Brother, thou talkest of
ease in the Grave ; but hast thou forgotten the Hell,
whidier for certain the murderers go ? For no
murderer hath eternal life, &c. And let us con-
sider again, tlmt all the Law is not in the hand of
Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can understand,
have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have
escaped out of bis band. Who knows hut that God
that made the world may cause that Giant Despair
may die? or that at some time or other he may for-
get to lock us in? or but he may in short time have
another of his Fits before us, and may lose the use of
his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass
again, for my part I am resolved to pluck up the
heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

121

(under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try
to do it before; but however, my Brother, let's be
patient, and endure a while; the time may come
that may give us a happy release ; hut let us not
be our own murderers. With these words Hopeful
at present did moderate the mind of his Brother; so
they continued together (in the dark) tliat day, in
their sad and doleful condition.

Well, towards evening the Giant goes down into
the Dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken
his counsel ; but when he came there he found them
alive, and truly, alive was all ; for now, what for
want of Bread and Water, and by reason of the
Wounds they received when lie beat them, they
conld do little but breathe: But, I say, he found
them alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage,
and told them that seeing they disobeyed his counsel,
it should be worse with them than if they had never
been born.

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that
Christian fell into a Swoon; but coming a little

I to himself again, they renewed their discourse about
tiie Giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best
to take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to
be for doing it, but Hopeful made his second reply
as followeth:

Hope. My Brother, said he, rememherest thou
not how valiant thou hast been heretofore? Apol-
lyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou
didst hear, or see, or feel in the Valley of the Shadow
of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement
hast thou already gone through, and art thou now
nothing but fear? Thou seest that I am in the
Dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by bature
than thou art; also this Giant has wounded me as
well as thee, and hath also cut off the Bread and
Water from my mouth ; and with thee I mourn with-
out the light. But let's exercise a little more pa-
tience, remember how thou playedst the man at
I Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the Oiain,

"■>- -'

Chtiatiaii
dejected

Hopeful

ccmiforts
biitE agaiii,
by calJing
furiopr
Ihinffs
In rcmeia-
braace

IS

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

nor Cage, nor yet of bloody Death : wherefore let tis
(at least to avoid the shame, that becomes not a
Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as
well as we can.

Now night being come again, and the Giant and
his Wife being in bed, she asked him concerning
the Prisoners, and if thcy had taken his counsel:
To which he replied, They are sturdy Rogues, they
chuse rather to bear all hardship, than to make away
themselves. Then said she, Take them into the
Castle-yard to-morrow, and shew them the Bones
and Skulls of those that Ihou hast already dispatch'd,
and make them believe, e'er a week comes to an end,
thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast
done their fcilows before them.

So when the morning was come, the Giant goes
to them again, and lakes them into the Castle-yard

ihreaiened and shews them as his Wife had hidden him.

itoitiyhe These, said he, were Pilgrims as you are, once, and

would puU they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done;

"" and when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces, and

so within ten days I will do you. Go get you down
to your Den again: and with that he beat them all
the way thither. They lay therefore all day on
Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now
when night was come, and when Mrs Diffidence and
her Husband the Giant were got to bed, they began
to renew their discourse of their Prisoners; and
withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither
by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end.
And with that his Wife replied, I fear, said she, that
they live in hope that some will come to relieve them,
or that they have pick-locks about them, by the
means of which they hope to escape. And sayest
thou so. my dear? said the Giant, I will therefore
search them in the morning.

Well on Saturday about midnight they began to
pray, and continued in Prayer till almost break of
day.
Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as

On Setur-

di;, the
Giant

thtm in
piece*

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

one half amazed, brake out in passionate speech:
iVhat a fool, quoth he, am /, llius to lie in a stinking
Dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty. I
have a Key in my bosom caUed Promise, that will.
'I am persuaded, open any Lock in Donbting Castk.
Then said Hopeful, That's good news ; good Brother
pluck it out of thy bosom and try.

Then Christian pulled it out o£ his bosom, and
began to try at the Dungeon door, whose bolt (as
he turned the Key ) gave back, and the door flew open
with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came
out. Then he went to the outward door that
leads into the Castle-yard, and with his Key opened
that door also. After he went to the iron Gate, for
that must be opened too, but that Lock went dam-
nable hard, yet the Key did open it. The.i they
thrust open the Gate to make their escape with
speed; hut that Gate as it opened made such a creak-
ing, that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising
to pursue his Prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for
his Fits took him again, so that he could by no
means go after them. Then they went on, and
came to the King's High-way again, and so were
safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now when they were gone over the Stile, they
began to contrive with themselves what they should
do at that Stile, to prevent those that should come
after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair.
So they consented to erect there a Pillar, and to
engrave upon the side thereof this sentence, Over
this Slilc is the way to Doubting Castle, which is
kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the
Cmlestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy
PUgrims. Many therefore that followed after read
what was written, and escaped the danger. This
done, they sang as follows :

Out of the way we went, and then we louad
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground;
And let them that come after have a care.
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to Eare.

A key in

Christian'*
bosom,
called
Fromis«.
□pcnB any
lock in
Dcubllafl
Castle

A pillar
erected by
Cbri±tiAn
and his
[ellQW

IH

PILGRISrS PROGRESS

The

DcTMlable

Mouniaina

They are
irfwalied
in the
mountalDi

Talk with

the

Shepberda

Lest they for trespa^siD^ his prisoaers are.

Whose Castle's Doubling, and whose name's Disfair,

They went then till they came to the Delectable
Mountains, which Moiiniaina belong to the Lord
of that Hill of which we have spoken before; so
they went up to the Mountains, to behold the Gar-
dens and Orchards, the Vineyards and Fountains
of water; where also they drank, and washed them-
selves, and did freely eat of the Vineyards. Now
there were on the tops of these Mountains Shep-
herds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the
High-way side. The Pilgrims therefore went to
them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common
with weary Pilgrims, when they stand to talk with
any by the way) they asked. Whose Deleclabte
Mountains are these? And whose be the sheep that
feed upon them?

MountaiDa Delectable they dov asceud,
Where Shepherds be, which ti> them do commeDd
Alluriog things, and things that Cautious are,
PilgrimB are steady kept by Faith and Pear.

Shep. These mountains are Immanuel's Land,
and they are within sight of his City; and the sheep
also are his, and he laid down his life for them.

Chr, Is this the way to the Ccelestial City?

Shep. You are just in your way.

Chh, How far is it thither?

SnEp. Too far for any but those that shall get
thither indeed.

Chb. Is the way safe or dangerous?

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe,
but transgressors shall fall therein.

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for Pilgrims
that are weary and faint in the way?

Shep. The Lord of these Mountains hath given
us a charge not to be forgotten to entertain
strangers; therefore the good of the place is before
you.

I saw also in my Dream, that when the Shepherds

PILGRIIi

US

perceived that they were way-faring men, they also

pot questions to them (to which they made answer

as in other places) as. Whence came you? and,

How got you into the way? and, By what means

have you so persevered therein? For but few of

I them that begin to come hither do shew their face

[on these Mountains. But when the Shepherds heard

' their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked

very lovingly upon them, and said. Welcome to the

iDelectable Mountains.

f The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowl-
edge, Experience, IValchftd, and Sincere, took them
by the hand, and had them to their Tents, and made
them partake of that which was ready at present.
They said moreover, We would that ye should stay
here a while, to be acquainted with us; and yet more
to solace yourselves with the good of these Delecta-
ble Mountains. They then told them, that they were
content to stay : and so they went to their rest that
night, because it was very late.

Then I saw in ray Dream, that in the morning
the Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to
walk with them upon the Mountains; so they went
forth with them, and walked a while, having a
pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the
Shepherds one to another, Shall we shew these Pil-
grims some wonders? So when they had concluded
to do it, they had them first to the top of a Hill
called Error, which was very steep on the furthest
side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So
Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at
the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a
fail, that they had from the top. Then said Christian.
What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered.
Have you not heard of them that were made to
err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philelus, as
concerning the Faith of the Resurrection of the
Body? They answered. Yes. Then said the Shep-
herds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at
the bottom of this Mountain are they ; and th^

The

Shepherds
welcome
them

The iiBiiie*
of ihe
Shepherds

They are

shown

woQders

The MouE-

taisof

Error

las

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Mmmt
Caution

A by-way
tobcl!

have continued to tliis day unburied (as you see)
for an example to others to take heed how they
clamber too high, or how they come too near the
brink of this Mountain.

Then I saw that they had them to the top of
another Mountain, and the name of that is Caution,
and bid them look afar oi¥; which when they did,
they perceived, as they thought, several men walking
up and down among the Tombs that were there;
and they perceived that the men were blind, because
they stumbled sometimes upon the Tombs, and be-
cause they could not get out from among them.
Then said Christian, What means tkist

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not sec
a little below these Mountains a Stile, that led into
a Meadow, on the left hand of this way? They an-
Bwered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that
Stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubl-
ing Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair; and
these men (pointing to them among the Tombs)
came once on Pilgrimage, as you do now, even till
they came to that same Stile; and because the rig^t
way was rough in that place, they chose to go out
of it into that Meadow, and there were taken by
Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle ; where,
after they had been awhile kept in the Dungeon,
he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among
those Tombs, where he has left them to wander to
this very day, that the saying of the Wise Man
might be fulfilled. He thai -wandereth out of the way
of understanding, shall remain in the congregation
of the dead. Then Christian and Hopeful looked
upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet
said nothing to the Shepherds.

Then I saw tn my Dream, that the Shepherds
had them to another place, in a bottom, where was
a door in the side of a Hill, and they opened the
door, and bid them look in. They looked in there-
fore, and saw that within it was very dark and
smoky; they also thought that they heard there a

PILGRIM'S PROGHESa

127

I
I
^

rumbling noise as of Fire, and a cry of some tor-
mented, and that tliey smelt the scent of Brimstone.
Then said Chrislian, Whai means thU? The Shep-
herds told them, This is a by-way to Hell, a way
that Hypocrites go in at ; namely, such as sell their
Birth-right, with Esa»; sach as sell their Master, as
Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexan-
der; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and
Sapphira his Wife. Then said Hopeful to the Shep-
herds, 1 perceive that these had on them, even every-
one, a shew of Pilgrimag;e, as we have now; had
they not?

Shep. Yea, and held it a long time too.

Hope. How far might they go on in Pilgrimage
in their day, since they notwithstanding were thus
miserably cast away?

SsEP. Some farther, and some not so far as these
Mountains.

Then said the Pilgrims one to another. We had
need to cry to the Strong far strength.

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when
yon have it too.

Ey this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go for- The
wards, and the Shepherds a desire they should; so ^^'pVcUvi
they walked together towards the end of the Moun- gUsB
tains. Then said the Shepherds one to another. Let
us here shew to the Pilgrims the Gates of the Coeles-
tial City, if they have skill to look through our
Perspective-Glass. The Pilgrims then lovingly ac- The Hill
cepted the motion ; so they had them to the top of a Clear
high Hill, called Clear, and gave them their Glass
to look.

Then they assayed to look, but the remembrance Thefmits
of that last thing that the Shepherds had shewed ?*^""'''
them, made their hands shake, by means of which
impediment they could not look steadily through
the Glass; yet they thought they saw something
like the Gate, and also some of the Glory of the
place.

Then they went away and sang this song.

7RIH-S PRC

A twofold
caation

The caua-

try of

Conceit,

out of

irbich

came

Ignorance

Christian
and Tbho-
rance have
ume la tic

The
ground
nf Igno-
rance's
hope

Thm by the Shepherds Secrets ire reveal'd;
Which from all other men are kepi conceal'd
Come to the Shepherds then if yon wonld see
Things deep, things hid, and thai niystenous be.

When they were about to depart, one of the Shep-
herds gave them a Note of the woy. Another of
theni bid them beware of the flatterer. The third
bid them take heed that they sleep not on the In-
chanted Ground. And the fourth bid them Godspeed.
So I awoke from ray Dream.

And I slept, and Dreamed again, and saw the
same two Pilgrims going down the Mountains along
the High-way towards the City. Now a little below
these Mountains, on the left hand lieth the Country
of Conceit; from which Country there comes inio
the way in which the Pilgrims walked, a little
crooked Lane. Here therefore they met with a very
brisk Lad, that came out of that Country; and his
name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him From
what parts he came, and whither he jvas going*

Ignor. Sir, I was bom in the Country that lieth
off there a little on the left band, and I am going
to the Ccelestial City.

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the Gate,
for you may find some difficulty there?

Ignor. As other good people do, said he.

Cbr. But what have you to shew at that Gate,
that may cause that the Gate should be opened to
you?

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and I have been
a good liver; I pay every man his own; I Pray,
Fast, pay Tithes, and give Alms, and have left my
Country for whither I am going.

Chr. But thou earnest not in at the Wicket-Gate
that is at the head of this way; thou camest in
hither through that same crooked Lane, and there-
fore I fear, however thou mayest think of thyself,
when the reckoning day shall come, thou wilt have
laid to thy charge that thou art a Thief and a
Kobber, instead of getting admittance into the City.

PILGRIM'S PROGHESS

129

ICNOR. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me. He saiih
I know you not ; be content to follow the Religion J,^^'^^ |^
of your Country, and I will follow the Religion isafool
of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for the
Gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that
is a great way ofl o£ our Country. I cannot think
that any man in all our parts doth so much as know
the way to it, nor need they matter whether they
do or no, since we have, as you see, a fine pleasant
Green Lane, that comes down from our Country
the next way into the way.

When Christian saw that the man was wise in "ow to
his own conceit, he said to Hopeful whisperingly, to i looi
There is more hopes of a fool than of him. And
said moreover, When he that is a fool walkelh by
the way, his wisdom failelh him. and he saith to
every one that he is a fool. Wliat. shall we talk
further with him, or outgo him at present, and so
leave him to think of what he halh heard already,
and then stop again for him afterwards, and see
if by degrees we can do any good of himp Then
said Hopeful,

Lst Ignaranu s little wbUa Dcnr muse
On what la said, and let him not refase
Good counsel to imbrace, lest he remain
Still ignorant of what's Lhe chiefest gain.
God saith, Tho.te that no understanding have,
(Although he made thtm) tlieio lie will not save.

Hope. He further added, It is not good, I think,
to say all to him ivt once; let us pass him by, if you
will, and talk to him anon. e'Jen as he is able to
bear it.

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came The dc-
after. Now when they had passed him a little way, fraction
they entered into a very dark Lane, where they met xumaway
a man whom seven Devils had bound with seven
(trong cords, and were carrying of him hack to
the Door that they saw on the side of the Hill.
Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did
Hopeful his Companion; yet as the Deviis led

HC— Vol. i5~a

130

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

ul]nb his
compaaion

Liille-faiili

Bro^'Way

Dead

Han't

Lane

Little-faith
rb>bbcd by
Faint-
heart, Mis-
inin, aad
Guilt

They got
away hii
silver, and
knocVeri
him down

away the man, Chrisltan looked to see if he knew
him, and he thought it might be one Turn-atvay that
dwelt in the Town of Apostacy. But he did not
perfectly see his face, for he did hang his head like
a Thief that is found. But being gone past. Hopeful
looked after him, and espied on his back a paper
with this inscription. Wanton Professor and damna-
ble Apostate. Then said Christian to his fellow.
Now 1 call to remembrance that which was lo!d me
of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout.
The name of the man was Little-faith, but a good
man, and he dwelt in the Town of Sincere. The
thing was this; At the entering in of this passage
there comes down from Broad-may Gate, a Lane
called Dead Man's Lane; so called because of the
Murders tiiat are commonly done there; and this
Little-faith going on Pilgrimage as we do now,
chanced to sit down there and slept. Now there
happened at that time, to come down the Lane from
Broad-way Cafe, three sturdy Rogues, and their
names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, (three
Brothers) and they espying Little-faith where he
was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good
man was just awaked from his sleep, and was getting
up to go on his Journey. So they came up all to
him, and witli threatning language bid him stand.
At this Little-faith looked as white as a Clout, and
had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said
Faint-heart, Deliver thy Purse. But he making no
haste to do it (for he was loth to lose his Money)
Misirxtst ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into
his Pocket, puU'd out thence a bag of silver. Then
he cried out. Thieves, Thieves. With that Guilt
with a great Club tliat was in his hand, struck
Little-faith on the head, and with that blow fell'd
him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding as
one that would bleed to death. Al! this while the
Thieves stood by. But at last, they hearing that
some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should
be one Great-grace that dwells in the Ci^ of Good-

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

131

conHdmce, they betook themselves to their heels,
and left this good man to shift for himself. Now
after a while Liltle-faitk came to himself, and get-
ting up made shift to scrabble on his way. This
was the story.

Hope. But did they take from hini all that ever
he had?

Chr, No; the place where his Jewels were they
never Tan sacked, so those he kept still; but as 1 was
told, the good man was much afflicted for his
loss, for the Thieves got most of his spending Money.
That which they got not (as I said) were Jewels,
also he had a little odd Money left, but scarce
enough to bring him to his Journey's end; nay, if I
was not misinformed, he was forced to beg as he
went, to keep himself alive, for his Jewels he might
not sell. But beg, and do what he could, he went
(as we say) with many a hungry belly the most part
of the rest of the way.

Hope. But is it not a wonder that they got from
him his Certificate, by which he was to receive his
admittance at the Cceiestiai Gate?

Chr. 'Tis a wonder but they got not that, though
they missed it not through any good cunning of his ;
for he being dismayed with their coming upon him,
had neither power nor skill to hide anj^hing; so
'twas more by good Providence than by his en-
deavour, that they miss'd of that good thing.

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him
thai they got not this Jewel from him.

Che. It might have been great comfort to him,
had he used it as he should; but they that told me
the story said that he made but httle use of it all
the rest of the way, and that because of the dismay
that he had in their taking away his Money; indeed
he forgot it a great part of the rest of his Journey;
and besides, when at any time it came into his
mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then
would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon
him, and those thoughts would swallow up all.

LitOe-faitli
lost dot
his best
tilings

Little-faith
forced to
bpg to his
JDuniey's
cad

He kept
not hia
btst things
by his own
cunning
(i Tim.
i- i4>

m

PILGRIM'S

by both

Cbibtiaii
<ifiubbvth
liTa fellow
for
unadTisrd

A diwourae
abou. Esao
aiid
Little- faith

Cranvni
ruled by
Us lust;

Hope. Alas poor man ! This could not but be a
great grief to iiim.

Chr. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. Would it not
have been so to any of us, had we been used as he,
to be robbed, and wounded too, and that in a strange
place, as he was ? 'Tis a wonder he did not die
with grief, poor heart I I was told that he scattered
almost all the rest of the way with nothing but
doleful and bitter complaints; telling also to All that
over-took him, or that he over-took in the way as
he went, where he was robbed, and how; who they
were that did it, and what he lost; how he was
wounded, and that he hardly escaped with his life,

Hope. But 'tis a wonder that his necessity did
not put him upon selling or pa'jming some of his
Jewels, that he might have wherewith to relieve
himself in his Journey.

Chb. Thou talkest like one upon whose head
is the Shell to this very day: for what should he
pawn them, or to whom shoiild he sell them? In
all that Country where he was robbed, his Jewels
were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief
which could from thence be administered to him.
Besides, had his Jewels been missing at the Gate
of the Coelestial City, he had (and that he knew
well enough) been excluded from an Inheritance
there ; and that would have been worse to him than
the appearance and villany of ten thousand Thieves.

Hope. Why art thou so tart my Brother? Esau
sold his Birth-right, and that for a mess of Pottage,
and that Birth-right was his greatest Jewel; and
if he, why might not Litlic-faith do so too?

Chr. Esau did sell his Birth-right indeed, and
so do many besides, and by so doing exclude them-
selves from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff
did; but you must put a difference betwixt Esau
and Llltle-faith, and also betwixt their Estates.
Esau'i Birth-right was typical, but Little-faith's
Jewels were not so: Esau's belly was his god, but
Little-faith's belly was not so: Esau's want lay in

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

133

iiis fleshly appetite, Little-faith's did not so. Besides,
Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of
his lusts : For I am at the point to die, said he, and
what good will thi< Rirth-right do mef But Little-
faith, though it was his lot to have but a little faith,
was by his lUtle faith kept from such extravagancies,
and made to see and prize his Jewels more than to
sell them, as Esau did his Birth-right. You read
not anywhere that Esau had faith, no not so much
as a little; therefore no marvel if where the flesh
only bears sway (as it will in that man where no
faith is to resist) if he sells his Birth-right, and
his Soul and all, and that to the Devil of Hell; for
it is with such, as it is with the Ass, who m her
occasions cannot be turned away. When their
minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them
whatever they cost. But Little-faith was of another
temper, his mind was on things Divine ; liis liveli-
hood was upon things that were Spiritual, and
from above; therefore to what end should he that
is of such a temper sell his Jewels (had there been
any that would have bought them) to fill his mind
ivith empty things? Will a man give a penny to
fill his belly with Hay ? or can you persuade the
Turtle-dove to live upon Carrion like the Crow?
Though faithless ones can, for carnal Lusts, pawn
oi mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves
outright to boot; yet they that have faith, saving
faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so, Here
therefore my Brother is thy mistake.

Hope. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe
reflection had almost made me angry,

Cfr. Why. I did but compare thee to some of the
Birds that are of the brisker sort, who will run to
and iro in trodden palhs^ with the Shell upon their
heads; bu' pasr by that, and consider the matter
under debate, and all shall be well betviHxt thee
and me.

HopK, But Christian, these three feIlow=, 1 am
persuaded in my heart, arc but a company of Cow-

Esau never
had faith

Littlc-failh
couM not
live upon
Esau's
pollsge

A compari-
son be.
tween the
turtle- dove
and the
crow

Hopeful
awasgets

134

PILGRIM'S PROGREae

No Btrat
heflrt for
God. wbcre
thpTE i« but
little faiib

We have
more cour-
age when
out. than
wh£1l m
the conflict

Christian
tella his
own ex-
perience in
tbis case

The King's
chBinciiDa

ards; would they have run else, think you, as they
did, at the noise of one that was coming on the
road? Why did not Liltle-failh ptuck up a greater
heart? He might, methinks, have stood one brush
with them, and have yielded when there had been
no remedy.

Chr. That they are Cowards, many have said.
but few have found it so in the time of Trial. As
for a great heart, Liltle-failh had none; and 1 per-
ceive by thee, my Brother, hadst thou been the man
concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to
yield. And verily since this is the height of thy
stomach, now they are at a distance from us, should
they appear to thee as they did to him, they might
put thee to second thoughts.

But consider again, they are but journeymen
Thieves; they serve under the King of the bottom-
less Pit, who. if need be, will come in to their aid
himself, and his voice is as ihe roaring of a Lion.
I myself have been engaged as this Litlk-failh was,
and I found it a terrible thing. These three Villains
set upon me, and I beginning like a Christian to
resist, they gave but a call, and in came their
Master: I would, as the saying is, have given my
hfe tor a penny; but that, as God would have it, I
was cloathed with Armor of proof, Ay, and yet
though I was so harnessed, I found it hard work
to quit myself like a man: no man can tell what in
that Combat attends us, but he that hath been in
the Battle himself.

Hope. Well, but they tan, you see, when they did '
but suppose that one Great-grace was in the way.

Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and
their Master, when Great-grace hath but appeared;
and no marvel, for he is the King's Champion. But
I tro you will put some difference between Little-
faith and the King's Champion. All the King's
Subjects are not his Champions, nor can they when
tried do such feats of War as he. Is it meet to think
that a little child should handle Goliah as David

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

US

did? Or that there should be the strength of an Ox
in a Wren? Some are strong, some are weak; some
have great faith, some have little: this man was one
of the weak, and therefore he went to the wall.

Hope. 1 would it had been Great-grace for their
sakes.

Chr. If it had been he, he might have had his
hands full; for I must tell you, that though Great-
grace is excellent good at his Weapons, and has,
and can, so long as he keeps them at Sword's point,
do well enough with them ; yet if they get within
him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it
shall go hard hut they will throw up his heels. And
when a man is down, you know, what can he do?

Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall
see those scars aiid cuts there, that shall easily give
demonstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard he
should say, (and that when he was in the Combat)
We despaired even of life. How did these sturdy
Rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn,
and roar? Yet, Heman and Hezekiah too. though
Champions in their day, were forced to bestir them
when by these assaulted; and yet notwithstanding
they had their Coats soundly brushed by them.
Peter upon a time would go try what he could do ;
but though some do say of him that he is the Prince
of tlie Apostles, they handled him so, that they
made him at last afraid of a sorry Girl.

Besides their King is at their whistle. He is Leri-^
never out of hearing; and if at any time they be g^^j'^jj,
put to the worst, he if possible comes in to help
them ; and of him it is said. The Sword of him that
loyeth af him cannot hold, the Spear, the Dart, nor
ike Habergeon: he esteemeth Iron as Straw, and
Brass as rotten Wood. The Arrow cannot make
him Hy; Sling-stones are turned -with him into
Stubble, Darts are counted as Stubble: he laughelh
at the shaking of a Spear. What can a man do
in this case? 'Tis true, if a man could at every
turn have Job's Horse, and had skill and courage to

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Thfeied- ride him, he might do notable things; for his Neck
ISi^'ip"' « cloallied with Thunder, he will not he afraid as
jdb'i horse /ft? Grasshopper, the glory of kis Nostrils is terrible,
he paweth in the Valley, rejoicelk in Im strength,
and goelh out to meet the armed men. He mockelh
at fear, and is not affrighted, neither lumeth back
from the Sivord. The Quiver rattleth against him,
the glittering Spear, and the Shield. He swallou-eth
the ground with Herceness and rage, neither be-
lieveth he thai it is the sound of the Trumpet. He
sailh among the Trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth
the Battle afar off, the thundering of the Captains,
and the Shoutings.

But for such footnien as thee and I are, let us
never desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as
if we could do better, when we hear of others that
they have been foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts
of our own manhood ; for such commonly come by
the worst when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I
made mention before. He would swagger, ay lie
would; he would, as his vain mind prompted hira
to say, do better, and stand more for his Master
than all men ; but who so foiled and run down by
these Villains as he?

When therefore we hear that such Robberies are
done on the King's High-way, two things become
us to do : First, To go out harnessed and to be sure
to take a Shield with us; for it was for want of
that, that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan could
not make bim yield; for indeed if that be wanting
he fears us not at all. Therefore he that had skill
hath said. Above all take the Shield of Faith, ivhere-
witk ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts
of the wicked.

'Tis good also that we desire of the King a
Convoy, yea that he will go with us himself. This
made David rejoice when in the Valley of the
Shadow of Death: and Moses was rather for dying
where he stood, than to go one step without his
God. O my Brother, if he will but go along with

It ts ^od

to Ikavc a
convoy

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

137

lis, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that
shall set themselves against us? But without him,
the proud helpers fall under the slain.

I for my part have been in the fray before now,
and though (through the goodness of him that is
best) I am, as you see, alive ; yet I cannot boast of
my manhood. Glad shall I be, tf I meet with no
more such brunts, though I fear we are not got
beyond all danger. However, since the Lion and
the Bear have not as yet devoured me, 1 hope God
will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised
Phiiistine. Then sang Christian.

VooT LillU-faiiil Hast been among the Thieves f

Wast robb'd ? Remember this : Whoso believes
And gels more Faith, shall then a victor be
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three.

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They
went then till they came at a place where they saw
a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal
to lie as straight as the way which they should go :
and here they knew not which of the two to take,
for both seemed straight before them; therefore
here they stood stili to consider. And as they were
thinking about the way, behold a man black of flesh,
but covered with a very light Robe, came to them,
and asked them why they stood there? They an-
swered they were going to the Ccelestial City, but
knew not which of these ways to take. Follow me,
said the man, it is thither that I am going. So they
followed him in the way that but now came into
the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them
30 from the City that they desired to go to, that in
little time their faces were turned away from it:
yet they followed him. But by-and-by, before they
were aware, he led them both within the compass
of a Net, in which they were both so intangled,
that they knew not what to do; and with that the
white Robe fell off the black man's back: then they
saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay

A way, and
a nay

The flat.
irfdt Eada
lb em

Christian
anrl his
fellow
deluded

They are
taken in
a net

w

PILGRIM'S PR0GEES3

They be-
TfliT tbeJT
eandiiioa

One cooes
to ihem
with a
whip in
hit hind

They are
evaminedi
Bnd eoD-
yicled of
(orget-
fulnesa

Deedyen
fine ipolf en

crying some time, for they could not get themGclves

out.

Chr, Then said Chrislian to his fellow. Now do

I see myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds bid
us beware of the flatterers? As is the saying of the
Wise man, so we have found it this day, A man that
fiatterelli his Neighbour, spreadeth a Net for his feet.
Hope. They also gave us a Note of directions
about the way, for our more sure finding thereof;
but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have
not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer.
Here David was wiser than we; for saith he, Con-
cerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips
I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer.
Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the NeL At
last they espied a Shining One coming towards
them with a Whip of small cord in his hand. When
he was come to the place where they were, he asked
them whence they came ? and what they did there?
They told him that they were poor Pilgrims going to
Sion, but were led out of their way by a black man,
cloathed in white, who bid us, said they, follow hira,
for he was going thither too. Then said he with
the Whip, It is Flatterer, a false Apostie, that hath
transformed himself into an Angel of Light So
he rent the Net, and let the men out. Then said
he to them. Follow me. that I may set you in your
way again: so he led them back to the way which
they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he asked
them, saying, Where did you lie the last night?
They said, Wilh the Shepherds upon the Delectable
Mountains. He asked them then, If they had not
of those Shepherds a Note of direction for the way F
They answered. Yes. But did you. said he, when
you were at a stand pluck out and read your Note?
They answered, No. He asked them, Why? They
said they forgot. He asked moreover, If the Shep-
herds did not bid them beware of the Flattererf
They answered. Yes; but we did not imagine, said
they, that this fine-spoken man had been h^tr*—^

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

138

Then I saw in ray Dream, that he commanded They an
them to lie down: which when they did, he chastised "'"PpeiS.
them sore, to teach them the good way wherein on their
they should walk; and as he chastised them he said, '""^
As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten; be zealous
therefore, and repent. This done, he bid them go
on their way, and take good heed to the other direc-
tions of the Shepherds. So they thanked him for
all his kindness, and went softly along the right
way, singing,

Coroe hither, you that walk along the way.
See how the Pilgrims fare that go astray ;
They catched are in an intangllng Net,
'Cause they good Counsel lightly did forget ;
'Tis true they rescu'd were, but yet you see
Tney're scourg'd to twiot : Let this your caution be.

Now after a while, they perceived afar off one
coming softly and alone al! along the High-way to
meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow.
Yonder is a man with his back toward Sion, and
he is coming to meet us.

Hope. I see him, let us take heed to ourselves The Atbe.
now, lest he should prove a Flatterer also. So he '/t"";"*

, ' , ' , , them

drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up unto
them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them
whither they were going.

Chr. We are going to the Mount Sion.

Then Atheist fell into a very great Laughter. HeUugha

Chr, What is the meaning of your Laughter? "t them

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons
you are, to take upon you so tedious a Journey, and
you are like to have nothing but your travel for your
pains.

Chr. Why man? Do you think we shall not be Thtr
received ?

Atheist. Received ! There is no such place as
you dream of in all this World,

Chr. But there is in the World to come.

Atheist, When I was at home in mine own
Cotintry, I heard as you now affirm, and from that

toBctbsr

lU

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

The Alhe-
ist talfca
up hit
content in
lliii worM

Chriittan
pravcth hia
brother

Hopeful'l

gncicnu

injwer

A rcmcTn-

bra nee of

fotioer

chasllae-

inenla is

m blip

IgaiDst

present

tempia-

dona

Afnilt
cf an
boDeat
heut

They are
tome to th0
Enchanted
Ground

hearing went out to see, and have been seeking this
Cily this twenty years; hut find no more of it than
I did the first day I set out.

Chr. We have both heard and beheve that there
is such a place to be found.

Atheist. Had cot I when at home believed, I
had not come thus far to seek: but finding none,
(and yet I should, had there been such a place to
be found, for I have gone to seek it further than
you) I am going back again, and will seek to refresh
myself with the things that I then cast away, for
hopes of that which I now see is not.

Cbh. Then said Christian to Hopeful his fellow.
Is it true which this man hath said?

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers; re-
member what it hath cost us once already for our
hearkening to such kind of fellows. What t no
Mount Sion? Did we not see from the Delectable
Mountains the Gate of the City? Also, are we not
now to walk by Faith. Let us go on, said Hopeful,
lest the man with the Whip overtake us again. You
should have taught me that lesson, which I will
round you in the ears withal: Cease, tny Son, to
hear the insirueiion that causelh to err from the
words of knowledge. I say my Brother, cease to
hear hina, and let us believe to the saving of the Soul.

Chr. My Brother, I did not put the question to
thee for that I doubted of the Truth of our belief
myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee
a fruit of the honesty of thy heart, As for this
man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this
World. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we
have belief of the Truth, and no He is of the Truth.

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of
God. So they turned away from the man; and he
laughing at them went his way.

I saw then in my Dream, that they went til! they
come into a certain Country, whose air naturally
tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger
into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

ttl

Hopcfal
bestns to
be iconsy

ChristiBa
keeps dim
Bwike

P

and heavy of sleep: wherefore he said unto Chris-
tian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I can
scarcely hold up mine eyes, let us lie down here and
take one nap.

Chr. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping
we never awake more.

Hope. Why my Brother? Sleep is sweet to the
labouring man; we may be refreshed if we take
a nap.

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the
Shepherds bid us beware of the Inchanted Ground?
He meant by that, that we should beware of sleep-
ing; wherefore let us not sleep as do others, but
let ua watch and be sober.

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault, and had
I been here alone I had by sleeping run the danger
of death. I see it is true that the Wise man saith.
Two are better than one. Hitherto hath thy com-
pany been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good
reward for iky labour.

Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness
in this place, let us fall into good discourse.

Hope. With all my heart, said the other.

Chr. Where shall we begin?

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you
begin, if you please.

Chr. I will sing you first this song:

When Salals do sleepj' grow, let them came hither,
And hear how these two Pilgriins talk together:
Tea, let them learn of them in auy wise.
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, alumbring eyes.
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well.
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of Hell.

Chb. Then Christian began and said, I will ask They begin
you a question : How came you to think at first of "^nnine
doing as you do now? of i heir _

Hope, Do you mean, how came I at first to look «""«"■'>»■
after the good of my soul?

Chb. Yes, that is my meaning.

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight

Heb

thAEUCTUl

To prevent
drowsiness
ihty fill
to good
difirrourse

Good
discoiirM
prevents
ilrowBineaa

The dreua-
er"» note

itt

PILGRTWS PROGRESS

Bopetnl'i
life befcfc

Hojwfnl
■tGm

his tyes
■gftmft

HtaNXU
of his re-
BsIioE of
llicliaht

of those things which were seen and sold at our
Fair; things which I believe now would have (had
I continued in them still) drowned me in perdition
and destruction.

Chr. What things were they?

Hope, AH the Treasures and Riches of the World.
Also I delighted much in Rioting, Revelling, Drink-
ing, Swearing, Lying, Undeanness, Sabbath -break-
ing, and what not, that tended to destroy the Soul.
But I found at last, by hearing and considering of
things that are Divine, which indeed I heard of you,
as also of beloved Faithful, that was put to death
for his faith and good living in Inanity Fair, That
the end of these things is death. And that for
these things" sake the wrath of God cometh upon
the children of disobedience.

CiiK. And did you presently fall under the power
of this conviction?

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know
the evil of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon
the commission of it; but endeavoured, when my
mind at first began to be shaken with the Word, to
shut mine eyes against the light thereof.

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying
of it thus to the first workings of God's blessed
Spirit upon you?

Hope. Tlie causes were, I. I was ignorant fliat
this was the work of God upon me. 1 never thought
that by awakenings for sin God at first begins the
conversion of a sinner. 2, Sin was yet very sweet
to my flesh, and I was loth to leave it. 3. I could
not tell how to part with mine old Companions, riidr
presence and actions were so desirable unto me.
4. Tbe hours in which convictions were upon me,
were such troublesome and such heart-aSriglitnig
liours, that I could not bear, no not so much as tbe
remembrance of them upon ray heart.

Cbb. Then as it seems, sometimes you got rid
of jfoiir trouble.
' Hon. Yes verily, but it wmld come into my mimd

ISIM-S PROGRESS

US

agiiri and then I should be as bad, nay worse, tfiaa
I was before.

Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins
to mind again?

Hope. Many things; as

1. If I did but meet a good man in the Streets; or,

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible; or,

3. If mine Head did begin to ake; or,

4. If I were told that some of my Neighbors were
sick; or,

5. If I heard the Bell toll for some that were
dead ; or.

6. If I thought of Dying myself; or,

7. IE I heard that sudden Death happened to
others ;

8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that
I must quickly come to Judgment.

Chh. And could you at any time with ease get
off the guilt of sin, when by any of these ways
it came upon youf

Hope. No, not latterly, for then they got faster
hold of my conscience; and then, if I did but think
of going back to sin, (though my mind was turned
against it) it would be double torment to me.

Chr. And how did you do then?

Hope, I thought I must endeavour to mend my
life; for else, thought I, I am sure to be damned.

Chr. And did you endeavour to mend?

Hope. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but
sinful Company too; and betook me to religious
duties, as Prayer, Reading, Weeping for Sin, speak-
ing Truth to my Neighbors, &c These things did
I, with many others, too much here to relate.

Chb. And did you think yourself well then?

Hope, Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble
iiame tumbling upon mc again, and that over the
neck of all my reformations.

Chr. How came that about, since you were now
reformed ?

Hope. There were several things brought it upon

WhcDtiF
bad lotit hii
9en£E of
sin, vbat
brought
thisacin

Whpo he
could ari
longer
shake off
ha guilt
hy sinful
coursu,
then he eOi
deavours
(o mend

Then h(
Ihoughl
himsplf

144

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Beforma-
doD LI
laBl 2ould
sot bclp.
■otl wiiy

Hii Meg

■ debtor
by the law
troubled
hiin

His eapT-
lag bad

IhinEs in
hii best
duties
troubled
him

This nuide
him bre;iL
liiH mind
loFailbtuT,
who told
him the
way lo be
uvcd

me, especially such sayings as these: All our right-
eoifsnesses are as filthy rags. By the works of
the Law no man shall be justified. tVhen you have
done all things, say, (Ke arc unproHtable: with many
more such Hke. From whence I began to reason
with myself thus: If all my righteousnesses are
filthy rags, if by the deeds of the Law, ho man can
be justified; and if, when we have done all, we are
yet unprofitable, then 'tis but a folly to think of
Heaven by the Law. I further thought thus; I(
a man rims lool. into the Shop-keeper's debt, and
after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch; yet
his i^ild debt stands still in the Book uncrossed, for
the which the Shop-keeper may sue him, and cast
him into Prison til! he shall pay the debt.

CiiH, Well, and how did you apply this *.o yourself?

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself; 1 have
by my sins run a great way into God's Book, and
that my now reforming will not pay off thai score;
tlierefore I should think still under all my present
amendments, But how shall I be freed from that
damnation that I have brought myself in danger of
by my former transgressions?

Chr. a very good application : but pray go on.

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled nie, even
since my late amendments, is. that if I look nar-
rowly into the best of what I do now, I still see
sin, new sin, mixing ilself with the best of that
1 do; so that now I am forced to conclude, that not-
withstanding my former fond conceits of myself and
duties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to
send me to Hell, though my former life had been
faultless.

Chr. And what did you do then ?

Hope. Do ! I could not tel! what to do, till T
brake my mind to Faithful, for he and I were well
acquainted. And he told mc, that unless I could
obtain the righteousness of a man that never had
sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteousness
of the world could save me.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

145

Chr. And did you think he spake true?

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and
satisfied with mine own amendments, I had called
him Fool for his pains: but now, since I see mine
own infirmity, and the sin that cleaves to my best
performance, I have been forced to be of his opinion.

Chr. But did you think, when at first he sug-
gested it to you, that there was such a man to be
found, of whom it might justly be said. That he
never committed sin?

HoPB. I must confess the words at first sounded
strangely ; but after a little more talk and company
with him, I had full conviction about it.

CtiR. And did you ask him what man this was,
and how you must be justified by him ?

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus,
that dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High.
And thus, said he, you must be justified by him,
even by trusting to wliat he hath done by himself
in the days of his flesh, and suffered when he did
hang on the Tree. I asked him further, How that
man's righteousness could be of that efficacy to
justify another before God? And he told me he was
tlie mighty God, and did what he did, and died the
death also, not for himself, but for me; to whom
his doings, and the worthiness of them should be
imputed, if I believed on him.

Chr. And what did you do then?

Hope. I made my objections against my believing,
for that I tliought he was not willing to save me.

Chr, And what said Faithful to you then ?

Hope. He bid me go to him and see: tlien I said
it was presumption : but he said, No, for I was in-
vited to come. Then he gave me a Book of Jesus
his inditing, to encourage me thR more freely to
come; and he said concerning that Book, that every
jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than Heaven and
Earth. Then I asked him. What I must do when
1 came? and he told me, I must entreat upon my
knees with all my heart and sou!, the Father to

At which

be itaned
at pruem

A IS ore

S articular

of tlie
VJ^y to fau

BBVCd

He doubU
n£ accep-
talioa

JleiB
belief
iQEiructcd

146

PILGRIM'S PKOGRESS

He a bid
to pr>]r

He praye

reveal him to me. Then I asked him further, How
I must make my supplication to him? Ajid be
said, Go, and thou shalt find him upon a mercy-
seat, where he sits all the year long, to give pardon
and forgiveness to them that come. I lold him
that I knew not what to say when I came. And he
bid me say to this effect : God be jnerciful to
me a sinner, and make me to knozv and believe in
Jesus Christ; for I see that if his righteousness had
not been, or I have not faith in that righteousness,
I am utterly cast away: Lord, I have heard that
ikou art a merciful God, and hast ordained that thy
Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviovr of the world;
and moreover, that thou art -wiUing to bestow him
upon such a poor sinner as I am, (and I am a sin-
ner indeed) Lord, lake therefore this opportunity,
and magnify thy grace in the Salvation of tMj soul,
through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen.

Chh. And did you do as you were bidden?

Hope. Yes, over and over and over.

Chh. And did the Father reveal his Son to you?

Hope, Not at the first, nor second, nor third,
nor fourth, nor fifth, no nor at the sixth time
neither.

Chh. What did you do tlien ?

Hope. What 1 why I could not tell what to do.

Chb. Had you not thought of leaving off praying?

Hope. Yes, an hundred times twice told.

Chh. And what was the reason you did not?

Hope. I believed that that was true which had
been told me, to wit, that without the righteousness
of this Christ all the world could not save me; and
therefore thought I with myself, H I leave off, I die,
""p'"^g. and can but die at the Throne of Grace. And withal,
and why ' this Came into my mind, // it tarry, vtail for it, be-
cause it will surely came, it will not tarry. So I
continued praying until the Father shewed me his
Son.

Chr. And how was he revealed unio you?

Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, bat

He thought
to leave off
praying

He durEt
not leave

PILGHIM'S PnOGRESS

147

witli the eyes of mine understanding; and thus Christ is
it was : One day I was very sad, I think sadder than J"]^^^**
at any one time in my life, and this sadness was and how
through a fresh sight of the greatness and vile-
ness of my sins : and as I was then looking for noth-
ing but Hell, and the everlasting damnation of my
Soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus
look down from Heaven wpon me, and saying. Be-
lieve on ike Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved.

But I replied. Lord, I am a great, a very great
sinner. And he answered My grace is suffidenl for
thee. Then I said. But Lord, what is believing?
And then I saw from that saying, He that eometk
to me shall never hunger, and he thai believeth o»
tne shall never thirst that believing and coming was
all one; and that he that came, that, is, ran out in
his heart and affections after salvation by Christ,
he indeed believed in Girist. Then the water stood
in mine eyes, and I asked further, But Lord, may
such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted
of thee, and be saved by thee ? And I heard him say,
And him thai comelh to me I will in no wise cast
out. Then I said. But how. Lord, must I consider
of thee in my coming to thee, that my faith may
be placed aright upon thee ? Then he said, Christ
testis came into the World to save sinners. He is
the end of the Law for righteousness to every one
that believes. He died for our sins, and rose again
for our jiistificaiion. He loved us and washed us
from our sins in his own blood. He is Mediator be-
tvicen God and us. He ever Uveth to make inter'
cession for us. From all which I gathered, that I
must look for Righteousness in his Person, and for
Satisfaction for my Sins by his Blood; that what he
did in obedience to bis Father's Law, and in sub-
mitting to the penalty thereof, was not for himself,
but for him that will accept it for his Salvation,
and be thankful. And now was my heart full of
joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections

I4S

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

running' over with love to the Name, People, and
Ways of Jesus Christ.

CiiB. This was a. revelation of Christ to your soul
indeed; but Icl) me particulaly what effect this had
upon your spirit

Hope. It made me see that all the World, not-
withstanding all the righteousness thereof, is in a
state of condemnation. It made me see that God
the Father, though he be just, can Justly justify the
coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the
vileness of my former lite, and confounded nie with
the sense of mine own ignorance; for there never
came thought into my heart before now, that shewed
me so the beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love
a holy life, and long to do something for the Honour
and Glory of the Name of the Lord Jesus ; yea,
I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of
blood in my body, 1 could spill it all for the sake of
the Lord Jesus.

I saw then in my Dream that Hopeful looked back
and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind,
coming after. Look, said he to Ckristian, how far
yonder youngster loitereth behind.

CiiR. Ay, ay, I see him; he careth not for our
company.

Hope. But I tro it would not have hurt him, had
he kept pace with us hitherto.

Che. That's true, but I warrant you he thinketh
otherwise.

Hope. That I think he doth, but however let us
IT'■^^^ 'arry for him. So they did.

Then ChrtsUan said to him. Come away man, why
do you stay so behind?

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even
more a great deal than in Company, tmless I like
it the better.

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly) Did
I not tell you he cared not for our company? But
however, said he, come up, and let us talk away the
time in this solitary place. Then directing his

Voung

again;
tbeir talk

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

149

I he ground
of it

Speech to Ignorance, he said, Ccme, how do you?

How stands it between God and your Soul now?

Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good ismt- _
motions, that come iuto my mind to comfort me [,op"flnd
as I walk,

Chh, What good motions? pray tell us.

Ignor. Why, I think of God and Heaven.

Chr, So do the Devils and damned Souls.

Igkor. But I think of them and desire them.

Chr. So do many that are never like to come
there. The Soul of the Sluggard desires, and hath
nothing.

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them.

Cur. That I doubt, for leaving all is an hard
matter, yea a harder matter than many are aware
of. But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that
thou hast left all for God and Heaven?

Ignob, My heart telJs me so,

CiiR. The wise man says, He that trusts his own
heart is a fool.

Ignor. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine
is a good one.

Chr. But how dost thou prove that?

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of Heaven.

Chr. That may be through its deceit fulness, for
a man's heart may minister comfort to him in the
hopes of that thing for which he yet has no ground
to hope.

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together, and
therefore my hope is well grounded.

Chb. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree
together ?

Ignor. My heart tells me so.

Chr. Ask my fellow if I be a Thief I Thy heart
tells thee sol Except the Word of God beareth
witness in' this matter, other testimony is of no
value.

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that has good
thoughts ? and is not that a good life that is accord-
ing to God's Commandments ?

150

PILGRIM'S PHOGHESS

What ore

good

llioughts

Chb, Yea, that is a good heart that hath good
thoughts, and that is a good Hfe that is according
to God's Commandments; but it is one thing indeed
to have these, and another thing only to think so.

Ignob. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and
a hfe according to God's Commandments?

Chk. There are good thoughts of divers kinds,
some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ,
some other things.

Ignor. What be good thougjits respecting our-
selves ?

Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God.

IcNOR. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree
with the Word of God?

Chk. When we pass the same Judgment upon
ourselves which the Word passes. To explain my-
self, the Word of God saith of persons in a natural
condition. There is none righteous, there is none
that doth good. It saith also, That every imag-
ination of the heart of man is only evil, and thai
continitally. And again. The imagination of man's
heart is evil from his youth. Now then, when we
think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof, then
are our thoughts good ones, because according to
the Word of God.

Ignok. I will never believe that my heart is thus
bad.

Chb. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought
concerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on;
As the Word passeth a Judgment upon our Heart,
so it passeth a Judgment upon our Ways; and when
our thoughts of our Hearts and Ways agree with
the Judgment which the Word giveth of both, then
are both good, decause agreeing thereto.

IcNOB. Maivc out your meaning.

Cbr. Why, the Word of God saith that man's
ways are crooked ways, not good, but perverse. It
saith they are naturally out of the good way, that
they have not known it. Now when a man thus
thinketh of his ways, I say, when he doth sensibly.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

151

'

and with heart-humiliation thus think, then hath
he good thoughts of his own ways, because his
thoughts now agree with the Judgment of the Word
of God.

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God?

Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves,
when OUT thoughts of God do agree with what the
Word saith of him; and that is, when we tliink
of his Being and Attributes as the Word hath taught,
of which I cannot now discourse at large: but to
speak of him with reference to us, then we have right
thoughts of God, when we think that he knows us
better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us
when and where we can see none in ourselves; when
we think he knows our inmost thoughts, and that
our heart with all its depths is always open unto his
eyes ; also when we think that all our Righteousness
stinks in his nostrils, and that therefore he cannot
abide to see us stand before him in any confidence,
even in all our best performances.

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a foo! as
to think God can see no further than I? or that
I would come to God in the best of my perform-
ances?

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter?

Ignor, Why, to be short, I think I must believe
in Christ for Justification.

Chr. How! think thou must believe in Christ,
when thou seest not thy need of him ! Thou neither
seest thy original or actual inSrmities; but hast
such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest,
as plainly renders thee to be one that did never
see a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness
to justify thee before God. How then dost thou
say I believe in Christ?

Ignor. I believe well enough for all that.

Chr. How dost thou believe?

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and Tht
that I shall be justified before God from the J^'J;^"^^
curse, through his gracious acceptance of my obedi-

us

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

cnce to his Law. Or thus, Christ makes my Duties
that are religious, acceptable to his Father by virtue
of his Merits; and so shall I be justified.

Cqr. Let me give an answer to this Confession of
thy Faith.

1. Thou believest with a fantastical Faith, for
this Faith is nowhere described in the Word.

2. Thou believest with a false Faith, because it
taketh Justification from the personal righteousness
of Christ, and applies it to thy own.

3. This Faith maketh not Christ a Justifier of
thy person, but of thy actions; and of thy person for
thy actions' sake, which is false.

4. Therefore this Faith is deceitful, even such
as will leave thee under wrath in the day of God
Almighty; for true Justifying Faith puts the soul
(as sensible of its lost condition by the Law) upon
flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness, (which
righteousness of his is not an act of grace, by
which he maketh for Justification Iky obedience
accepted by God; but liis personal obedience to the
Law, in doing and suffering for us what that re-
quired at our hands.) This righteousness, I say,
true Faith accepteth; under the skirt of which the
soul heing shrouded, and by it presented as spotless
before God, it is accepted, and acquit from condem-
nation.

Ignor. What! would you have us trust to what
Christ in his own person has done without us?
This conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and
tolerate us to live as we list. For what matter how
we live, if we may be Justified by Christ's personal
righteousness from all, when we believe it?

Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is,
so art thou; even this thy answer demonstrateth
what I say. Ignorant thou art of what Justifying
Righteousness is. and as ignorant how to secure thy
Sou! through the Faith of it from the heavy wrath
of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant of the true
effects of saving Faith in this Righteousness of

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

153

Christ, which is to bow and win over the heart to
God in Christ, to love his Name, his Word, Ways,
and People, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest.

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed
to him from Heaven.

Ignor. Whatl you are a man for revelations! I
beheve that what both you, and all the rest of you,
say about that matter, is but the fruit of distracted
brains.

Hope. Why man ! Christ is so hid in God from
the natural apprehensions of all flesh, that he cannot
by any man be savingly known, unless God the
Father reveals him to them.

IcNOR. That is your Faith, but not mine; yet mine
I doubt not is as good as yours, though I have not
in my head so many whimsies as you.

Cbb. Give me leave to put in a word : You ought
not so slightly to speak of this matter: for this I
will boldly affirm (even as my good Companion hath
done) that no man can know Jesus Christ but hy
the revelation of the Father; yea, and Faith too,
by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, (if it be
right) must be wrought by the exceeding greatness
of his mighty power; the working of which Faith, I
perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of.

Be awakened then, see thine own wretchedness,
and fly to the Lord Jesus; and by his righteous-
ness, which is the righteousness of God, (for he
himself is God) thou shah be delivered from con-
demnation.

Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with
you, do you go on before, I must stay a while behind.

Then they said,

Woll IgnoroHct, wilt thoo yet fooUsh ba,
To slight good Counsel, ten times given thee?
And if thou yet refuse it, thon shall know
E're iong the evil of thy doing bo:
Retnember, man, in time; stoop, do not tear.
Good Counsel taken well, saves; there lure bear:
(Bnt if thon yet shall slight it, thou wilt be
Tbe loser, fpuraiui. Til wamwt thoe.

Igno ranee
JHuglcs
with them

[lEipeala
rcproich-
fully of
what be
knows not

The talk
broke up

IH

P1U3BIM'S PROGRESS

Then Chrisliaii addressed ihus himself to his
fellow.

Cub. Well, come my good Hopeful, I per-
ceive ihat than and 1 must walk hy ourselves
again.

So I saw in my Dream that they went on apace
before, and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then
said Christian lo his Companion, It pities me much
for this poor man, it will certainly go ill with him
at last.

Hope. Alas, there are abundance in our Town
in his condition, whole families, yea, whole Streets,
and that of Pilgrims too; and if there be so many in
our parts, how many ihink you, must there be in the
place where he was born?

Chr. Indeed the Word saith. He hatk blinded
their eyes, lest they should see, Stc. But now we
are by ourselves, what do you think of such men ?
Have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin,
and so consequently fears that their state is dan-
gerous ?

Hoi-E. Nay, do you answer that question yourself,
for you are the elder man.
ThBBood Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I ihink) they
aieo '"r jjj^y^ jjijj jjjgy being naturally ignorant, understand
not that such convictions tend to their good; and
therefore they do desperately seek to stifle them,
and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves
in the way of their own hearts.

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends
much to men's good, and to make them right at their
beginning to go on Pilgrimage.

Cue. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for
so says the Word, The fear of the Lord is the be-
ginning of Wisdom.
Bight fear Hope. How will you describe right fear?

Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three
things :

1. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions
for sin.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

155

I

Z, It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ
for salvation.

3, It begettelh and continucth in the soul a great
reverence of God, his Word, and Ways, keeping it
tender, and making it afraid to turn from them, to
the right hand or to the left, to anything that may
dishonour God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or
cause Ihe Enemy to speak reproachfully,

Hope. Well said; I believe you have said the
truth. Are we now almost got past the Inchanted
Ground ?

Chr. Why, art thou weary of this discourse?

Hope, No, verily, but that I would know where
we are.

Chr. We have not now above two miles further Whr
to go thereon. But let us return to our matter, jfc"5oiJ^'
Now the Ignorant know not that such convictions siiflt
as tend to put them in fear are for their good, and -^""ctiona
therefore they seek to stifle thera. inaenecBi

Hope. How do they seek to stifle tliem?

Chsi. r. They think that those fears are wrought In pai-
by the Devil, (though indeed they are wrought of f'™'w
God) and thinking so, they resist them as things
that directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also
think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their
Faith, when alas for them, poor men that they are,
they have none at all ! and therefore they harden
their hearts against them. 3, They presume they
ought not to fear, and therefore in despite of them
wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that
these fears tend to take away from them their piti-
ful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them
with all their might.

Hope. I know something of this myself; for be-
fore I knew myself it was so with me.

Chr, Well, we will leave at this time our Neigh-
bor Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another
profitable question.

Hope. With all my heart, but you shall still begin.

Chr. Well then, did you not loiow about ten years

156

PILGRIM'S PROGEBSS

Talk about

one

Tempaniy

Whtr« be

dwelt

Hewu

tovaidlr

onoe.

Reasons

why
towirdtr

onefi
go back

ago, one Temporary in your parts, who was a for-
wara man in Religion then?

Hope. Know him ! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a
town about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt
next door to one Turn-back. M

Chr. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with fl
him. Well, that man was much awakened once;
I believe that then he had some sight of his sins,
and of the wages that were due thereto.

Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not be-
ing above three miles from him) he would oft-
times come to me, and that with many tears. Truly
1 pitied the man, and was not altogether without
hope of him; but one may see it is not every one
that cries. Lord, Lord.

Chr. He told me once. That he was resolved
to go on Pilgrimage, as we do now; but all of a
sudden he grew acquainted with one Saveself, and
then he became a stranger to me.

Hope. Now since we are talking about him, let
us a little enquire into the reason of the sudden
backsliding of him and such others.

Chh. It may be very profitable, but do you begin.

Hope. Well then, there are in my judgment four
reasons for it

I. Though the consciences of such men are awak-
ened, yet their minds are not changed; therefore
when the power of guilt weareth away, that which
provoked ihem to be religious ceaseth. Wherefore
they naturally turn to their own course again, even
as we see the Dog that is sick of what he has eaten,
so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and
casts up all ; not that he doth this of a free mind, (if
we may say a Dog has a mind) but because it
troubleth his Stomach ; but now when his sickness is
over, and so his Stomach eased, his desire being
not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns him
about and licks up all; and so it is true which is
written. The Dog is turned to hts own vomit again.
This I say, being hot for Heaven by vertue only of

I

(
I

1

1

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the sense and fear of the torments of Hell, as their
sense of Hell and the fears of damnation chills and
cools, so their desires for Heaven and Salvation cool
also. So then it comes to pass, that when their guilt
and fear is gone, their desires for Heaven and Hap-
piness die, and they return to their course again.

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that
do over-master them; I speak now of the fears that
Ihey have of men, For the fear of men bringelh a
mare. So then, though they seem to be hot for
Heaven, so long as the flames of Hell are about their
ears, yet when that terror is a little over, they be-
take themselves to second thoughts; namely, that
'tis good to be wise, and not to run (for they know
not what) the hazard of losing all ; or at least, of
bringing themselves into unavoidable . ad unneces-
sary troubles, and so they fall in with the world
again.

3. The shame that attends Religion lies also as a
block in their way : they are proud and haughty, and
Religion in their eye is low and contemptible; there-
fore when they have lost their sense of Hell and
wrath to come, they retiim again to their former
course.

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to
them ; they like not to see their misery before they
come into it. Though perhaps the sight of it first,
if they loved that sight, might make them fly whither
the righteous fly and are safe. But because they
do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of
guilt and terror, therefore when once they are rid
of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of
God, they harden their hearts gladly, and chuse such
ways as will harden them more and more.

Chr. You are pretty near the business, for the
bottom of all is, for want of a change in their mind
and will. And therefore they are but like the
Felon that siandeth before the Judge, he quakes and
trembles, and seems to repent most heartily, but
the bottom of all is the fear of the Halter, not that

UB

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

he hath any detestation of the offence ; as is c\'ident,
because, let but this man have his liberty, and he
will be a Thief, and bo a Rogue still; whereas, if
his mind was changed, he woidd be otherwise.

Hope. Now I have shewed you the reasons of
their going back, do you show me the manner
thereof,

Chr, So I will willingly.
Bow the I. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may,
^*''°itack (""oni the remembrance of God, Death and Judg-
ment to come,

2. Then tlicy cast off by degrees private Duties, as
Closet -prayer. Curbing their Lusts, Watching, Sor-
row for Sin, and the like.

3. Then they shim the company of lively and
warm Christians.

4. After thai they grow cold to public Duty, as
Hearing, Reading, Godly Conference, and the like.

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in
the Coats of some of the Godly; and that devilishly,
that they may have a seeming colour to throw Re-
ligion (for the sake of some infirmity they have
spied in them) behind their backs.

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate
themselves with carnal, loose and wanton men.

7. Then tliey give way to carnal and wanton dis-
courses in secret; and glad are they if they can see
such things in any that are coimted honest, that they
may the more boldly do it through their example.

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins
openly.

9. And then, being hardened, they shew them-
selves as they are. Thus being launched again into
the gulf of misery, unless a Miracle of Grace preveni
it, they everlastingly perish in their own deceivings,

Angels Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time the

Pilgrims were got over the Inchantcd Ground, and
entering into the Country of Beulah, whose air was
very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly
through it, they solaced themselves there for a sea-

PILGRIM'S PBOGBESS

1S9

I

I

I

son. Yea, here they heard continually the singing
of Birds, and saw every day the Flowers appear in
the earth, and heard the voice of the Turtle in the
land. In this Country the Sun shineth night and
day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the
Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant
Despair, neither could they from this place so much
as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within
sight of the City they were going to, also here met
them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this
land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it
was upon the borders of Heaven. In this land also
the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom
was renewed ; yea here, as Ike Bridegroom rejoiceth
over the Bride, so did their God rejoice over litem.
Here they had no want of Corn and Wine; for in
this place they met with abundance of what they
had sought for in all their Pilgrimage. Here they
heard voices from out of the City, loud voices, say-
ing. Say ye to the daughter of Zion Behold thy
salvation cometh, behold his reward is with hm.
Here all the inhabitants of the Country called them.
The holy People^ The redeemed of the Lord, Sought
out, &C.

Now as they walked in this land, they had more
rejoicing than in parts more remote from the King-
dom to which they were bound; and drawing near
to the City, they had yet a more perfect view
thereof. It was builded of Pearls and Precious
Stones, also the Street thereof was paved with Gold;
so that by reason of the natural glory of the City,
and the reflections of the Sun-beams upon it, Chris-
tian with desire fell sick. Hopeful also had a fit or
two of the same disease. Wherefore here they
lay by it a while, crying out because of their pangs,
// you see my Beloved, tell him that 1 am sick of
love.

But being a little strengthened, and better able
to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and
came yet nearer and nearer, where were Orchards,

160

PILGRIMS PROGRESS

Vineyards, and Gardens, and iheir gates opened
into the High-way. Now as they carae up Eo these
places, behold the Gardener stood in the way, to
whom the Pilgrims said. Whose goodly Vineyards
and Gardens are these? He answered. They are the
King's and are planted here for his own delights,
and also for the solace of Pilgrims. So the Gar-
dener had them into the Vineyards, and bid them
refresh themselves with Dainties. He also shewed
them there the King's walks, and the Arbors where
he delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.

Now I beheld in my Dream, that they talked
more in their sleep at this time than ever they did
in all their Journey ; and being in a muse thereabout,
the Gardener said even to me. Wherefore musest
thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit
of the Grapes of these Vinyards to go down so
sweetly as to cause the Hps of them that are asleep
to speak.

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed
themselves to go up to the City. But, as I said,
the reflection of the Sun upon the City (for the
City was pure Gold) was so extremely glorious, that
they could not as yet with open face behold it,
but through an InslTumettt made for that purpose.
So X saw that as they went on, there met them two
men, in Raiment that shone like Gold, also their
faces shone as the light.

These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came?
and they told them. They also asked them where
they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what
comforts and pleasures they had met in the way?
and they told them. Then said the men that met
thera. You have but two difficulties more to tuect
with, and then you are in the City,

Christian then and his Companion asked the men
to go along with them, so they told them they would.
But, said they, you must obtain it by your own
Faith. So I saw in my Dream that they went on
together till they came in sight of the Gate,

PILGRIM-S PROGRESS

m

Dfslh is

come to
nature,
ibousb by
it we pt$a
out of tlrii
ivoTldm
lo glory

Angfla
help UB
not com-
t(rrt»bfy
tlbrDogll
death

Now I further saw that betwixt them and the Dttth
Gale was a River, but there was no Bridge to go
over, the River was very deep : at the sight there-
fore of this River the Pilgrims were much stunned;
but the men tliat went with them said, You must
go through, or you cannot come at the Gate.

The Pilgrims then began to enquire if there was
no other way to the Gate; to which they answered.
Yes, hut there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch
and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path, since
the foundation of the World, nor shall, until tlie
last Trumpet shall sound. The Pilgrims tlien, es-
pecially Chrislian, began to dispond in his mind,
and looked this way and that, but no way could he
found hy them by which they might escape the
River. Then they asked the men if the Waters
were all of a depth? They said, No; yet they could
not help them in that case, for said they, you shall
find it deeper or shallower^ as you believe in the
King of the place.

They tlien addressed themselves to the Water;
and entring. Christian began to sink, and crying
out 10 his good friend Hopeful, he said, 1 sink in
deep Waters ; the Billows go over my head, all his
Waves go over me, Setah.

Then said the other, Be of good cheer my Brother,
I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Chris-
tian, Ah my friend, the sorrows of death have com-
passed me about, I shall not see the land that flows
with milk and honey. And with that a great dark-
ness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could
not see before him. Also here he in great measure
lost his senses, so that he could neither remember,
nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments
thai he had met with in the way of his Pilgrimage.
But all the words that he spake Still tended to
discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-
fears that he should die in that River, and never
obtain entrance in at the Gate, Here also, as they
that stood by perceived, he was much in the tiouble-

HC — Vol. IB — B

Christiaa*!
coDJUct at
I he htrar
of death

PILORnrS PROGRESS

delivered
from bia
fears in
dealb

Bome thoughts of the sins that he had committed,
both since and before he began to be a Pilgrim.
'Twas also observed that he was troubled with
apparitions of Hobgoblins and evil Spirits, for ever
aiid anon he would intimate so much by words.
Hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep hts
Brother's head above water; yea sometimes he
would be quite gone down, and then ere a while
he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful also
would endeavour to comfort him, saying, Brother,
1 see the Gate, and men standing by to receive us.
But Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you they
watt for, you have been hopeful ever since I knew
you. And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah
Brother, said he, surely if I was right, he would
now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath
brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then
said Hopeful, My Brother, you have quite forgot
the Text, where it is said of the wicked. There is
no band in their death, but their strength is firm,
they are not troubled as other men, neither are they
plagued like other men. These troubles and dis-
tresses that you go through in these Waters are no
sign that God hath forsaken you, but are sent to
try you, whether you will call to mind that which
heretofore you have received of his goodness, and
live upon him in your distresses.

Then I saw in my Dream, that Christian was as
in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added
this word, Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ tnakelh
thee whole; and with that Christian brake out with
a loud voice. Oh I see him again, and he tells me.
When Ihou passest through the Waters, I wilt be
wish thee; and through the Rivers, they shall not
ovetHaw thee. Then they both took courage, and
the Enemy was after that as still as a stone, until
they were gone over. Christian therefore presently
found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that
the rest of the River was but shallow. Thus they
got over. Now upon the bank of the River on the

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

188

other side, they saw the two shining men again, The aaeeis
who there waited for them; wherefore being come ^j,"thein
out of the River, they saluted them saying, fVe are so soqo as
ministring Spirits, sent forth to minister for those •'"'S' '"=
thai shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went Sut'ofihis
along towards the Gale. world

Now, now, look bow the holy Pilgrims ride,
Clouds are their Chariots. Angela are their Guide:
Who would not bere for bim all hazards tud.
That thus provides for his when this World's done?

Now you must note that the City stood upon a -rhey have
mighty Hill, but tlie Pilgrims went up that Hill with p'"°^.„

. .... ... niorlahty

ease because they had these two raen to lead them
up by the arms ; also they had left their mortal Gar-
ments behind them in the River, for though they
went in with them, they came out without them.
They therefore went up here with much agility
and speed, though the foundation upon which the
City was framed was higher than the Clouds. They
therefore went up through the Regions of the Air,
sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, be-
cause they safely got over the River, and had such
glorious Companions to attend them.

The talk that they had witli the Shining Ones
was about the glory of the place, who told them
that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible.
There, said they, is the Mount Sion, the heavenly
Jervsalcm, the innumerable company of Angels, and
the Spirits of just men made perfect. You are
going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, where-
in you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the
never-fading fruits thereof; and when you come
there, you shall have white Robes given you, and
your walk and talk shall be every day with the
King, even all the days of Eternity. There you
shall not see again such things as you saw when
you were in the lower Region upon the earth, to
wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, for the
former things are passed away. You are now going

IM

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

u

to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to tlie Proph-
ets, men that God hath taken away from the
evil to come, and that are now resting upon their
beds, each one walking in his righteousness. The
men then asked, \Miat must we do in the holy place?
To whom it was answered. You must there receive
the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all
your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown,
even the fruit o£ all your Prayers and Tears, and
sufferings for the King by the way. In that place
yon must wear Crowns of Gold, and enjoy tlje
perpetual sight and vision of the Holy one, for
there you shitl see him as he is. There also you
shall serve him continually with praise, with shout-
ing, and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve
in the World, though with much difficulty, because
of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes
shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with
liearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There
you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone
thither before you; and there you shall with joy
receive even every one that follows into the holy
place after you, There also shall you be closthed
with Glory and Majesty, and put into an equipage
fit to ride out witli the King of Glory. When he
shall come with sound of Trumpet in the Clouds,
as upon the wings of tlie Wind, you shall come
with him; and when he shall sit upon the Throne
of Judgment, you shall sit by him; yea. and when
he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of in-
iquity, let them be Angels or Men, you also shall
have a voice in that Judgment, because they were
his and your Enemies. Also when he shall again
return to the City, you shall go too, with sound ot
Tnmipet, and be ever with him.

Now while they were thus drawing towards the
Gate, behold a company of the Heavenly Host came
out to meet them: to whom it was said by the other
two Shining Ones. These are the men that have
loved our Lord when they were in the World, and

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

165

I

that have left all for his Holy Name, and he hath
sent us to fetch them, and we have brought theni
thus far on their desired Journey, thai they may
go in and took their Redeemer in the face with joy.
Then the Heavenly Host gave a great shout, saying,
Blessed are they that arc called to the Marriage
Supper of the Lamb. There came out also at this
time to meet them, several of the King's Trumpeters,
cloathed in white and shining Raiment, who with
melodious noises and loud, made even the Heavens
to echo with their sound. These Trumpeters saluted
Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes
from the World, and this they did with shouting and
sound of Trumpet,

This done, they compassed them round on every
side ; some went before, some hehind, and some on
tlie right hand, some on the left, (as 'twere to
guard them through the upper Regions) continually
sounding as they went with melodious noise, in
notes on high: so that the very sight was to them
that could behold it, as if Heaven itself was come
down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked
on together ; and as they walked, ever and anon these
Trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, hy mix-
ing their musick with looks and gestures, still signify
to Christian and his Brother, how welcome they
were into their company, and with what gladness
tliey came to meet them ; and now were these two
men as 'twere in Jleaven before they came at it,
being swallowed up with the sight of Angels, and
with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also
they had the City itself in view, and they thought
they heard all the Bells therein ring to welcome
them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling
there, with such company, and that for ever and
ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious
joy be expressed! And thus they came up to the
Gate.

Now when they were come up to the Gate, there

UG PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

was written over it in Letters of Cold, Blessed are
they that do his Commandments, that they may have
right to' the Tree of Life, and may enter in through
the Gates into tkt City.

Then I saw in my Dream, that the Shining Men
bid them call at the Gate ; the which when they did,
some from above looked over the Gate, to wit,
Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, &c., to whom it was said.
These Pilgrims are come from the City of Destruc-
tion for the love that they hear to the King of this
place; and then the Pilgrims gave in unto them
each man his Certificate, which they had received
in the beginning: those therefore were carried in
to the King, who when he had read them, said.
Where are the men? To whom it was answered.
They are standing without the Gate. The King
then commanded to open the Gate, That the right-
eous nation, saith he, that kecpelh Truth may enter in.

Now I saw in my Dream that these two men
went in at the Gate; and lo, as they entered, they
were transfigured, and they had Raiment put on
that shone like Gold. There was also that met them
with Harps and Crowns, and gave them to them,
the Harps to praise withal, and the Crowns in token
of honour. Then I heard in my Dream that all the
Belis in the City rang again for joy. and that it was
said imto them, Enter ye into the joy of your Lord.
I also heard the men themselves, that they sang
with a loud voice, saying. Blessing, Honour, Glory,
and Power, be to him that sittcth upon the Throne,
and to the Lamb for ever and ever.

Now just as the Gates were opened to let tn the
men, I looked in after them, and behold, the City
shone like the Sun: the Streets also were paved
with Gold, and in them walked many men, with
Crowns on their heads, Palms in their bands, and
golden Harps to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and
they answered one another without intermission,
saying. Holy, Holy. Holy, is the Lord. And after

!

PHLGBIItrS PROGRESS

Vff

him over

tnat they shut up the Gates. Which when I had
seen, I wished myself among them.

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, ignorance
I turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance ™™""P
come up to the River-side ; but he soon got over, ,;,„
and that without half that difficulty which the other
two men met with. For it happened that there was
then in that place one Vain-hope a Ferry-man, that
with his Boat helped him over; so he, as the other Vain-hope
I saw, did ascend the Hill to come up to the Gate, f?^^"''
only he came alone; neither did any man meet him
with the least encouragement. When he was come
up to the Gate, he looked up to the writing that
was above, and then began to knock, supposing that
entrance should have been quickly administered to
him ; but he was asked by the men that looked over
the top of the Gate, Whence came you? and what
would you have? He answered, I have eat and
drank in the presence of the King, and he has taught
in our Streets. Then they asked him for his Certifi-
cate, that they might go in and shew it to the King.
So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found
none. Then said they, Have you none? But the
man answered never a word. So they told the King,
but he would not come down to see him, but com-
manded the two Shining Ones that conducted Ckris-
iian and Hopeful to the City, to go out and take
Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have
him away. Then they took him up, and carried him
tlirough the air to the door that I saw in the side
of the Hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that
there was a way to Hell even from the Gates o£
Heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction.
So I awoke, and behold it was a Dream.

THE CONCLUSION

Ifow Reader, / have told my Dream to tket;
See if thtm catist interpret it to me.
Or to thyself, or Neighbor; but lake heed
Of mis-interfretiHe ; for that, inilead
Of doiue good, will but thyself abuse:
By mia-inter^Hit£, evil insues.

Take heed also, that thou be not extreme.
In playing with the ovl-side of my Dream:
Nor lei my figure or simtlilude
Put thee into a laughter or a feud;
Leave this for Boys and Pools; but as for thee.
Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the Curtains, look u/ithin my Vail;
Turn up my Metaphors, and do net faU
There, if thou seekett them, such things to find
As uiiil be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dress thou findest there, be bold
To throw away, but yet preserve the Gold;
What if wy Gold be wrapped up in Oref
None throws away the Apple for the Core,
But if thou shalt cast away all as vain,
I know not but 'twill make me Dream again.

16B

THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

FKOM THIS WORLD
TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME

THE SECOND PART

DBUVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM

Wherein is set forth

the manner of the setting out of Christian's

Wife and Children, their Dangerous Journey, and

Safe Arrival at the Desired Country

By JOHN BUNYAN

/ have used Similtiudei. Hos. 12. id

•niE AUTHOR'S WAY OP SENDING
FORTH HIS

SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM

Go now tny little Book, to every place

Where my first Pilgrim has but shewn his Face:

Call at their door; If any say. Who's there?

Then answer thou, Christiana is here.

If they bid thee Come in, then enter thou,

With all thy Boysj and then, as thou knoTi/st how.

Tell who they are, also from whence they came;

Perhaps they'll know them by their looks, or name.

But if they should not, ask them yet again

If formerly they did not entertain

One Christian a Pilgrim? // they say

They did, and was delighted in his Way;

Then let them know that those related wert

Unto him, yea, his Wife and Children are.

Tell them that they have left their House and Hotnt,
Are turned Pilgrims, seek a World to come;
That they have met with Hardships in the way:
That they do meet with Troubles night and day;
That they have trod on Serpents, fought with Devilt,
Have also overcame a many evils.
Yea, tell them also of the next, who have
Of love to Pilgrimage been stout and brave
Defenders of that Way, and how they still
Refuse this World, to do their Father's wilU
I Go tell them also of those dainty things.
That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings.
Let them acquainted be too, how they art
171

172 THE AUTHOR'S APOt.OOT

Ttelovcd of their King, under his care;

iVhal goodly Mansions for them he provides,

Tho' they meet with rough !Viiids and swelling Tides,

Hovj brave a Calm they will enjoy at lasl.

Who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fast.

Perhaps wilk heart and hand they ■will embrace
Thee, as they did my pirstHng, and will grace
Thee, and thy fellows, with such cheer and fart.
As shew will they of Pilgrims lovers are.

1 Objectios
But how if they will not believe of me
That I am truly thine, 'cause some there be
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name,
Seek by disguise tg seem the very same,
And by thai weans have wrought themselves into
The hands and hottses of I know not whoT

Answu
Tis true, some have of late, to eoiinlerfeit

My Pilgrim, to their own my Title set;
Yea others half my Nave and Title too
Have stitched to their Book, to make them do;
But yet they by Iheir features do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose ere tlu-y are.
If such thou meelst with, then thine only way
Before them all is to say out thy say.
In thine own native language, which no man
Now usclh, nor with ease dissemble con.
If after all Ihey still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you like Gipsies go about
tn naushty wise the Country to defile.
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarrantable; send for me.
And I will tesiifje you Pilgrims be;
Yea, 1 wUl testifie that only you
My Pilgrims are; aitd that alone wili do.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 173

2 OsjEcnoN
But yet perhaps I may inquire for him,
Of those that wish him damned life and limb.
What shall I do, when I at such a door
For PUgrims ask, and they shall r^e the more?

Answer

Fright not thyself my Book, for such Bugbears
Are tiotking else but ground for groundless fears:
My Pilgrim's Book has travetl'd sea and land.
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or ium'd out of door
By any Kingdom, were they rich or poor.

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other.
My Pilgrim is esteemed a Friend, a Brother.

In Holland too 'lis said, as I am told.
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than Gold.

Highlanders and Wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be,

'Tis in New England under such advance.
Receives there so much loving countenance.
As to be trimm'd, new clolh'd, and deck"! with Gems,
That it may shew its features and its limbs.
Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk.
That of feiwi thousands dally sing and talk.

If you draw nearer home, it will appear
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear;
City and Country will him entertain
With Welcome Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by.
Or skews his head in any Company.
. Brave CaUmts do tity Pilgrim hug and love.
Esteem it much, yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk: yea, with delight.
Say my Lark's leg is better than a Kite.

Young Ladies, and young Gentle-^oomen too.
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim shew;
Their Cabinets, their Bosoms, and their Hearts
My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts

m THE ATTTHOR'S APOLOGY

fiis prelly riddles in such wholesome ilrains.
As yield thent profit double to their pains
Of rending. Yea, I Ihink J may be bold
To say some priee him far above their Gold.

The very Children that do walk the street.
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Salute him will, wUl wish him well, and say.
He is the only Stripling of the Day.

They thai have never seen him, yet adtnire
What they have heard of him, and much desire
To have his company, and hear him fell
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Vea, some who did not lore him at the firs!.
But calVd him Few! and Noddy, say they must
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend;
And to those whom they love they do him send.

Wherefore my Second Part, Ihou need'st not be
Afraid to shew thy Head; none can hurt thee,
Tliai wish bitt well to him that went before,
'Cause Ihou corn's! after with a second store
Of things as good, as rich, as profilable.
For Young, for Old, for Slagg'ring, and for Stable.

3 EJECTION

But some there be that say he laughs too loud;
And some do say hfs Head is Id a Cloud,
Some say his Words and Stories are so dark.
They know not how by then) to find his mark.

An s WEB

One may (/ think) say, Both his laughs and cries
May well be gues-^d a! by his watery eyes.
Some things are of thai nature as lo make
One's Fancie chuckle, while his Heart do!h ake.
When Jacob saia his Rachel with the sheep,
He did a! the same time both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say. A Cloud is in his Head,
That doth hut shew how Wisdom's covered
With its own mantles, and lo stir the tnind

THE AtJTHOR'S APOLOGY

To a search after what it fain would find:
Things that seem lo be hid in words obscure.
Do but the Godly mind the more allure;
To study what those sayings should contain
That speak to us in such a Cloudy strain.

I also know a dark Similitude
Will on the Fancie more itself intrude.
And will stick foster in the Heart and Head,
Than things from Similies not borrowed.

Wherefore my Book, let no discouragement
Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent
To Friends, not foes: to Friends that will give place
To thee, thy Pilgrims and thy words embrace.

Besides, what tity first Pilgrim kft conceaCd, '
Thou my brave Second Pilgrim hast reveal'd;
What Christian left lock'l up, and went his way.
Sweet Christiana opens with her Key.

4 Objection
But some love not the method of your first,
Romance they count it, throw't away as dust
If I should meet with such, what should I say?
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

MS

Answer

My Christiana, if with such thou meet.
By all means in ail loving wise them greet;
Render them not reviling for revile;
But if they frowti, I priihec on them smile;
Perhaps 'tis Nature, or some ill report,
Hos made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no Cheese, some love no Fish, and some
Love not their Friends, nor their own House or Home;
Some start at Pig, slight Chicken, love not FovA,
More than they love a Cuckow or an Owl;
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice.
And seek those who lo find thee will rejoice;
By no means strive, but ii: ai! humble wise
Present thtt to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

THK AITTHOR'S APOLOGY

Co then my Utile Book, and shew lo all
That enlertain, and bid thee welcome ihalt.
What thou shalt keep close, ahut up from the rest.
And wish what Ihov shalt shew them may he blest
To them for good, may make them chuse to be
Pilgrinis belter by far than ihte or me.

Go then, I soy, tell all men who thou art.
Say, I am Christiana, and my part
Is now, with my four Sons, lo tell you what
Ft is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot:

Co also tell them who and what they be.
That now do go on Pilgrimage with thee;
Say, Here's my Neighbor Mercy, she is one
That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone.
Come see her in her Virgin Face, and learn
'Twixt Idle ones and Pilgrims to discern.
Yea, lei young Damsels learn of her to prise
The World which is lo come, in any tvise.
When little tripping Maidens follow Cod,
And leave old doting Sinners to his Rod;
'Tis like those days wherein the young onas cried
Hosanah, lo whom old ones did deride.

Next tell them of old Honest, who you found
With his white lutirs treading the Pilgrim's ground.
Yea, tell them how plain-hearled this man was.
How after his good Lord he bare his Cross:
Perhaps vAth some grey Head this way prevasi
With Christ lo fall in Love, and Sin bewail.

Tell them also l%ow Master Fearing went
On Pilgrimage, and koto the time he spent
In Solitariness, with Fears and Cries,
And bote oi last he won Ihe joyful Prise.
He was a good man, though ^nuch down ill Spirit.
He is a good man, and doth Life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also.
Who not before, but still behind would go;
Shew them also how he bad like been islain.
And how one Great-heart did his life regain.
This man was true of Heart, Iko' weak in Gracti
One might true Godliness read in his Fact.

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY

The» tell them of Master Ready-to-halt,

A man wiik Crutches, but vtucH without fault;

Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he

Did love, and in opinions much agree.

And let all know, ilio' weakness was their chance.

Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Vali ant- for-the- truth,
That Man of courage, though a very Youth.
Tell every one his Spirit was io stout.
No man could ever make him face abotit.
And how Great-heart and he couid not forbear.
But put-down Doubting Castle, slay Despair.

Overlook not Master Deapondancie,
Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, tho' they lie
Under such Mantles as may make them look
(IVilh some) as if their God had them forsook.
They softly went, but sure, and at ike end
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their Friend.
When thou hast told the world of all these things,
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings,
ifhick if but touched, anil such Musick niafee'.
They'll make a Cripple dance, a Giant quake.

These Riddles that He couch'l within thy breast.
Freely propound, expound; and for the rest
Of thy mysterious lines, lei them remain
For those mhose nimble Fancies shall them gain.

177

Now may this little Book a blesMug be
To those who Invc this little Book a>ul me.
And may its Bayer have no cause to say.
His Money is but lost or thrown away;
Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield thai fruit.
As may with each good Pilgrim's Fancie sail;
And may it persuade some that go astray.
To twm their Feet and Heart to the right way:
Is the Hearty Prayer

of the Author

JOHN BVNVAN.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IN THE SIMILITUDE OP A DREAM,

THE SECOND PART

COURTEOUS Companions, some time since,
to tell you my Dream that I had of Christian
the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous Journey
toward the Cceiestial Country, was pleasant to me,
and profitable to you. I told you then also what I
saw concerning his Wife and Children, and how
imwiliing they were to go with him on Pilgrimage,
insomuch that he was forced to go on his Progress
without them; for he durst not run the danger of
that destruction which he feared would come by
staying with them in the City of Destruction.
Wherefore as I then shewed you, he left them
and departed.

Now it hath so happened, through the multiphcity
of Business, that I have been much hindred and
kept back from my wonted Travels into those parts
whence he went, and so could not till now obtain
an opportunity to make further enquiry after whom
he left behind, that I might give you an account
of them. But having had some concerns that way
of late, I went down again thitherward. Now hav-
ing taken up my Lodgings in a Wood about a mile
off the place, as I slept I dreamed again.

And as I was in my Dream, behold an aged
Gentleman came by where I lay; and because he
was to go some part of the way that I was travelling,
methougbt I got up and went with him. So as we
walked, and as Travellers usually do, I was as if we
179

no

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

fell into discourse, and our talk happened to be about
Christian and his Travels; for thus I began with the
old man.

Sir, said I, what Town is that there below, that
lieth on the left hand of our way?

Then said Mr Sagacity, (for that was his name)
It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but
possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort
of People.

I thought that was the City, quoth I, I went once
myself through that Town, and therefore know that
this report you give of it is true.

Sag. Too true, I wish I could speak trutli in
speaking better of them that dwell therein.

Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a
well-meaning man : and so one that takes pleasure
to hear and tell of that which is good: pray did
you never hear what happened to a man some time
ago in this Town (whose name was Christian) that
went of Pilgrimage up towards the higher Regions?

Sag. Hear of him I Ay. and I also heard of the
_^ Molestations, Troubles, Wars, Captivities, Cries,

when Booei Groans, Frights, and Fears that he met with and
*''n^'f ^^'^ '" '^'^ Journey. Besides, I must tell you, all
Siiie they' ''"^ Country rings of him; there are but few houses
are here that have beard of him and liis doings but have
sought after and got the Records of his Pilgrimage ;
yea, I think I may say that his hazardous Jour-
ney has got a many well-wishers to his ways; for
though when he was here, he was Fool in every
man's mouth, yet now he is gone, he is highly com-
mended of all For 'tis said he lives bravely where
he is; yea, many of them that arc resolved never
to rim his hazards, yet have their mouths water at
his gams.

They may, quotli I, well think, if they think any-
thing that is true, that he Hveth well where he is;
for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life,
and has what he ha« without labour and sorrow,
for there is no grief mixed therewith.

Christians
ire well
ftpokcu of

PILGHIMS PROGRESS

181

Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about Wm. OirtsHin's
Some say that he now walks in White, that he has ^-j^^g
a Chain of Gold about his neck, that he has a Crown Christian's
of Gold, beset with Pearls, npon his head. Others '«'■'
say that the Shining Ones that aoraetimes shewed
themselves to him in his Journey, are become his
Companions, and that he is as familiar with them
in the place where he is, as here one Neighhor is
with another. Besides, 'tis confidently aiBrmed
concerning him, that the King of the place where
he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich
and pleasant dwelling at Court; and that he every
day eateth and drinketh, and walketh, and taJketh
with him; and receiveth of the smiles and favours
of him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is
expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that
Country, will shortly come into these parts, and will
know the reason, if they can give any, why his
Neighbors set so little by him, and had him so much
in derision when they perceived that he would be
a Pilgrim. For they say, that now he is so in the
affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is
so much concerned with the indignities that were
cast upon Christian when he became a Pilgrim, that
he will look upon all as if done unto himself; and
no marvel, for 'twas for the love that he had to his
Prince that he ventured as he did.

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on't; I am glad
for the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest
from his labour, and for that he now reapeth the
benefit of his Tears with Joy; and for that he has
got beyond the Gun-shot of his Enemies, and is out
of the reach of them that hate him. I also am
glad for that a rumour of these things is noised
abroad in this Country; who can tel! but that it may
work some good effect on some that are left behind?
But pray Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you
hear anything of his Wife and Children? Poor
hearts, I wonder in my mind what they do !

Sag. Who I Christiana and her sons? They are

»

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

GeoA

tidinn of
Chri!tiin'n
wife and

First Part.
p. I6i

HsrVlbis.
you that
Hre churls
toyoar
godly
telacioiia

Rke to do as well as did Christian himself; for
tliough they all piay'd the fool at the first, and would
by no means be persuaded by either the tears or
entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have
wrought wonderfully witli them; so they have packt
up, and are also gone after him.

Better and better, quoth I. But wbatl Wife and
Children and all?

Sag, It is true; I can give you an account of the
matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and
was throughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Then, said I, a man it seems may report it for a
Truth?

Sag. You need not fear to afiirm it, I mean that
they are all gone on Pilgrimage, both the good
Woman and her four Boys, And being we are, as
I perceive, going some considerable way together, I
win give you an account of the whole of the matter.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the
day that she with her Children betootc themselves
to a Pilgrim's life) after her Husband was gone
over the River, and she could hear of him no more,
her thoughts began to work in her mind. First,
for that she had lost her Husband, and for that the
loving bond of that relation was utterly broken
betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, Nature
can do no less but entertain the living with many
a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss
of loving Relations. This therefore of her Husband
did cost her many a tear. But this was not all, for
Christiana did also begin to consider with herself,
whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her
Husband was not one cause that she saw him no
rtiore, and that in such sort he was taken away from
her. And upon this came into her mind by swarms,
all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages
to her dear Friend; which also clogged her Con-
science, and did load her witli guilt She was more-
over much broken with calling to remembrance the
restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IBS

of her Husband, and how she did harden her heart

against all his entreaties and loving persuasions

(of her and her Sons) to go with him; yea, there

was not anything that Christian either said to her,

or did before her all the while that his Burden did

hang on his back, but it returned upon her hke a *

flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her Heart

in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his. What First Pan

shall I do to be saved? did ring in her ears most p- '*

dolefully.

Then said she to her Children, Sons, we are all
undone. I have sinned away your Father, and he is
gone: he would have had us with him; but I would
not go myself, I also have hindred you of Life.
With that the Boys fell all into tears, and cried
out to go after their Father. Oh! said Christiana.
that it had been but our lot to go with him. then had
it fared well with us, beyond what 'tis like to do
now; for Iho' I formerly foolishly imagin'd con-
cerning the troubles of your Fatlier, that they pro-
ceeded of a foolish Fancy that he had, or tor that
he was overrun with melancholy Humours; yet now
'twill not out of my mind but that they sprang
from another cause, to wit, for that the Light of
Light was given him, by the help of which, as I
perceive, he has escaped the snares of Death. Then
they all wept again, and cried out, O Wo worth
the day.

The next night Christiana had a Dream ; and be- Chris-
hold she saw as if a broad Parchment was opened ^^^"^^
before her, in which were recorded the sum of her
ways; and the times, as she thought, look'd very
black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her
sleep. Lord have Mercy upon me a Sinner; and the
little Children heard her.

After this she thought she saw two very ill- Mart this,
favoured ones standing by her Bedside, and saying, J^u'^nj'sl"
What shall vje do with this Woman? for she cries wnce
out for Mercy waking and sleeping; if she be suf- "^^^^
fered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her at

IM

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

MOiott
dkconr-

Convig-
tionfl aec-
onded witb
freah
Udingi
DfGod'i
rcadlncra
to paidoa

we have lost her Husband. Wherefore we must by
one way or other, seek to take her off from the
thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the
World cannot help it but she will become a Pilgrim.

Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling
was upon her, but after a while she fell to sleeping
again. And then she thought she saw Christian her
Husband in a place of Bliss among many Immortals,
with an Harp in his Hand, standing and playing
upon it before one that sat on a Throne with a
Rainbow about his Head. She saw also as if he
bowed his Head with his Face to the pav'd-work
that was luider the Prince's feet, saying, / heartily
thank my Lord and King for bringing of me into
this Place. Then shouted a company of them that
stood round about, and harped with their Harps;
but no man living could tell what they said, but
Christian and his Companions.

Next morning when she was up, had prayed to
God, and talked with her Children a while, one
knocked hard at the door, to whom she spake out,
saying, If thou earnest in God's name, come in.
So he said Amen, and opened the Door, and saluted
her with Peace be to this house. The which when
he had done, he said, Christiana, knowest thou
wherefore I am come? Then she blushed and
trembled, also her Heart began to wax warm with
desires to know whence he came, and what was his
errand to her. So he said unto her. My name is
Secret, I dwell widi those that are high. It is talked
of where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go
thither; also there is a report that thou art aware
of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy Husband.
in hardening of thy Heart against his way, and in
keeping of these tliy Babes in their Ignorance. Chris-
tiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee that
he is a God ready to forgive, and that he taWeth
delight to multiply to pardon offences. He would
also have thee know that he invileth thee to come
into his presence, to bis Table, and that he will

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

feed thee with the Fat of his house, and with the
Heritage of Jacob thy Father.

There is Christian thy Husband that was, with
Legions more his Companions, ever beholditigf that
Face that dotli minister Life to beholders ; and they
will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of
thy feet step over tliy Father's threshold.

Chi-istiana at this was greatly abashed in herself,
and bowing her head to the ground, this Visitor
proceeded and said, Christiana, here is also a Letter
for thee, which I have brought from thy Husband's
King. So she took it and opened it, but it smelt
after the manner of the best Perfume, also it was
written in letters of Gold. The contents of the
Letter was, That the King would have her do as
did Christian her Husband; for that leas the way to
come to his City, and to dwell in his Presence zvith
Joy for ever. At this the good Woman was quite
overcome; so she cried out to her Visitor, Sir, will
you carry me and my Children with you, that we
also may go and worship this King?

Then said the Visitor, Christiana, the bitter is
before the sweet': thou must through troubles, as
did he that went before thee, enter this CosJestial
City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Chris-
tian thy Husband: Go to the Wicket -gate yonder,
over, the Plain, for that stands in the head of the
way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all
good speed. Also I advise that thou put this Letter
in thy bosom; that thou read therein to thyself and
to thy Children, until you have got it by rote of
heart, for it is one of the Songs that thou must
sing while thou art in this House of thy Pilgrimage;
also this thou must deliver in at the further Gate.
Now I saw in my Dream, that this old Gentleman.
as he told me this story, did himself seem to be
greatly affected therewith. He moreover proceeded
and said. So Chrisiiatia called her Sons together,
and began thus to address herself imto them: My
Sons, I have as you may perceive, been of late under

CbristiBna

quite

ovfrcome

Further
ulstruC'
ticm to
Chrifittans

CbrJstiona
prays well
for her
journey

ae

PILGRIM'S PROOnESS

tnuch exercise in my Soul about the Death of your
Father ; not for that I doubt at all of his Happiness,
for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have also
been much affected with the thoughts of mine own
state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature
miserable. My carriages also to your Father in
his distress, is a great load to my Conscience ; for
1 hardened both my own heart and yours a^inst
him, and refused to go with him on Pilgrimage.

The thoughts of these things would now kill me
outright, but that for a Dream which I had last
night, and but for the encouragement that this
stranger has given me this morning. Come my
Children, let us pack up and be gone to the Gate
that leads to the Codestial Country, that we may
see your Father, and be with him and his Com-
panions in peace, according to the Laws of that
Land.

Then did her Children burst out into tears for
Joy that the heart of their Mother was so inclined.
So their Vtsilar bid them farewell, and tfiey began
to prepare to set out for their Journey.

But while they were thus about to be gone, two
of the women that were Ckrisliani^s Neighbors,
came up to her house and knocked at her door. To
whom she said as before, // yov come m Cod's
name, come in. At this the women were stunned,
for this kind of language they used not to hear, or
to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana. Yet
they came in : but behold they found the good woman
a preparing to be gone from her house.

So they began and said. Neighbor, pray what is
yovr meaning by this?
Pint Part, Christiana answered and said to the eldest of
them, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am pre-
paring for a Journey. (This Timorous was daughter
to him that met Christian upon the Hill DtMculty,
and would a had him gone back for fear of the
Lions.)

Tim. For what Journey I pray you?

Clirii-

new

longuage
stuns
her old
aeiffhbora

P-«

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chris. Even to go after my good HusboMd.
And with that she fell a weeping.

Tim. 1 hope not so, good Neighbor, pray for
your poor Children's sakes, do not so unworaanly
cast away yourself.

Chris. Nay, my Children shall go with me, not
one of them ts willing to stay behind.

Tim. I wonder in my very heart, what or who
has brought you into this mind.

Chris. Oh, Neighbor, knew you but as much as
I do, 1 doubt not but that you would go witii me.

Tim, Prithee what new knowledge hast thou got,
that so worketh off thy mind from thy Friends,
and that tetnpteth thee to go nobody knows where?

Chris. Then Christiana replied, I have been
sorely afflicted since my Husband's departure from
me, but specially since he went over the River,
But that which troubleth me most, is my churlish
carriages to him when he was under his distress.
Besides, I am now as he was then; nothing will
serve me but going on Pilgrimage. I was a dream-
ing last night that I saw him. O that iiiy Soul
was with him. He dwelleth in the presence of
the King of the Country, he sits and eats with him
at his table, he is become a Companion of Immortals,
and has a House now given him to dwell in, to
which the best Palaces on Earth if compared, seem
to me to be but as a Dunghill. The Prince of the
place has also sent for me, with promise of enter*
tainment if I shall come to him ; his messenger was
here even now, and has brought me a Letter, which
invites me to come. And with that she pluck'd out
her Letter, and read it, and said to them. What now
will you say to this ?

Tim. Oh the madness that has possessed thee and
thy Husband, to run yourselves upon such difficul-
ties! You have heard, I am sure, what your Hus-
band did meet with, even in a manner at the first
step that he took on h'is way, as our Neighbor
Obstinate caii yet testify, for he went along with

Timorous
comes
to visit
Cbrisiisaa,
whb

Mercy, one
of ht^r
Deishboni

DcBlb

First Part,

pp. IS'M

m

PILGRIM'S PROGBESS

The tca-
(ooiiigs of
Iheflnh

Apertt-

n^nt rcplr
to Ocahlf
icisoningi

Mercy'!
bowela
Team over
Chnstianft

him; yea and Pliable too, until they like wise men,
were afraid to go any further. We also heard over
and above, how he met with the Lions, Apollyon,
the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor
is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be
forgotten by thee; for if he, tho' a Man, was SO
hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor
Woman, do? Consider also that these four sweet
Babes are thy Children, thy Flesh and thy Bones.
Wherefore though thou shouldest be so rash as to
cast away thyself, yet for the sake of the Fruit of
thy Body keep thou at home.

But Christiana said unto her, tempt me not, my
Neighbor. I have now a price put into mine hand
to get gaiii, and 1 should be a Fool of the greatest
size if I should have no heart to strike in with the
opportunity. And [or that yoit tell me of all these
Troubles that I am like to meet with in the way,
they are so far off from being to me a discourage-
ment, that they shew I am in the right. The bitter
must come before the sweet, and that also will make
the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore since you came
not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray
you to be gone, and not to disquiet me farther.

Then Timorous also revil'd her, and said to her
fellow. Come Neigbbw Mercy, let us leave her in
her own hands, since she scorns our Coimsel and
Company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could
not so readily comply with her Neighbor, and that
for a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned
over Christiana: so she said witliin herself, If ray
Neighbor will needs be gone, I will go a little way
with her and help her. Secondly, her bowels yearned
over her own Soul, (for what Christiana had said
had taken some hold upon her mind.) Wherefore
she said within herself again, I will yet have more
talk with this Christiana, and if I find Truth and
Life in what she shall say, myself with my heart
shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began
thus to reply to her Neighbor Timorous.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

189

»

I

Mehcv. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you
to see Christiana this morning; and since she is,
as you see, a taking of her last farewell of her
Country, I think to walk this Sun-shine morning
a little way with her to help her on the way. But
she told her not of her second reason, but kept that
to herself.

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a fooling
too, but take heed in time, and be wise: while we are
out of danger, we are out; but when we are in,
we are in. So Mrs Timorous returned to her
house, and Christiana betook herself to her Journey.
But when Timorous was got home to her
house, she sends for some of her Neighbors, to wit,
Mrs Bat's-eyes, Mrs Inconsiderate, Mrs Ligkl-
tnind, and Mrs Know-fiothing. So when they came
to her house, she falls to telling of the story of
Christiana and of her intented Joiimey. And thus
she began her tale.

Tim. Neighbors, having had little to do this morn-
ing, I went to give Christiana a visit; and when
1 came at the door, I knocked, as you know 'tis
our custom. And she answered. If you come in
God's name, come in. So in I went, thinking all
was well. But when I came in, I found her prepar-
ing herself to depart the Town, she and also her
Children, So I asked her what was her meaning
by that? And she told me in short, that she was
now of a mind to go on Pilgrimage, as did her
Husband. She told me also a Dream that she had.
and how the King of the Country where her Hus-
band was had sent her an inviting Letter to come
thither.

Then said Mrs Know-nothing, And what do you
think she will go?

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever come on't; and
methinks I know it by this, for that which was my
great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to
wit, the Troubles she was like to meet with in the
way) is one great argument with her to put her

Timorous
forsakes
her. but
Mercy

dlcBTCS

io htr

Timorocs
acquflinrs
her friend?
Mhat Ihe
good

Chrlfitidua
Intends
to do

Mrs
Know-
nothing

100

PILGRIM'S PROORBS8

eyes

Mm In-

H>niider»te

Mn

Llght-mind
Madame
Wanton,
she that
had like
Id have
been too
bard for
Faithful
in time
paat

First Part,
p. »

Discourse
belwixt
Mercy
and gdod
ChriftianA

Merqr

indinea

toio

forward on her Journey. For she told me in 30|
many weirds, The bitter goes before the sweet. Yea,
and for as much as it so doth, it makes the Sweet
the sweeter.

Mrs Bai's-eyes. Oh this blind and foolish wom-
an, said she, will she not take warning by her
Husband's afflictions? For my part I see if he was
here again, he would rest him content in a whole
skin, and never rtm so many hazards for nothing.

Mrs Inconsiderate also replied, saying. Away
with sLich Fantasiical Fools from the Town! A
good riddance for my part I say of her. Should
she stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind,
who could live quietly by her? for she will either be
dumpish or unneighborly, or talk of such matters
as no wise body can abide ; wherefore for my part
I shall never be sorry for her departure; let her go,
and let better come in her room: 'twas never a
good World since these whimsical Fools dwelt io it.

Then Mrs Liyhl-mind added as followeth: Come
put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at
Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the
maids. For who do you think should be there, but
I and Mrs Lova-the-Hesh, and three or four more,
with Mr Lechery, Mrs Filth, and some others. So
there we had musick and dancing, and what else was
meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say my
Lady herself is an admirably well-bred Gentle-wom-
an, and Mr Lechery is as pretty a fellow.

By this lime Christiana was got on her way, and
Mercy went along with her. So as they went, her
Children being there also, Christiana began to dis-
course. And Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as
an unexpected favour, that thou shouldst set foot
out of doors with me, to accompany me a little in
ray way.

Mekcy. Then said yotmg Mercy (for she was
but young) If 1 thought it would be to purpose to go
with you, I would never go near the Town any
more.

PILGRIM'S PEOGBBSS

lai

Chris. Well Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy
lot with me : I well know what will be the end of our
Pflgrimage; my Husband is where he would not
but be for all the Gold in the Spanish Mines, Nor
shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon
my Invitation. The King who hath sent for me and
my Children is one that delighteth in Mercy. Be-
sides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt
go along with me as my servant ; yet we wiU have
all things in common betwixt thee and me, only go
along with me.

Mercv. But how shall I be ascertained that I also
shall be entertained? Had I this hope but from one
that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would
go, being helped by him that can help, tho' the way
was never so tedious.

Chris. Well loving Mercy, I will tell thee what
thou shalt do. Go with me to the Wicket-gate, and
there I will further enquire for thee ; and if there
thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be
ciDntent that thou shalt return to thy place. I also
will pay thee for thy kindness which thou shewest
to me and my Children, in thy accompanying us in
our way as thou doest.

Mercy. Then I will go thither, and will take what
shall follow, and the Lord grant that my lot may
there fall even as the King of Heaven shall have
his heart upon me.

Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only
that she had a Companion, but also for that she had
prevailed with this poor Maid to fall in love with
her own Salvation. So they went on together, and
Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Where-
fore weepeth my Sister so?

Mehcy. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that
shall but rightly consider what a state and con-
dition my poor Relations are in that yet remain in
our sinful Town : and that which makes my grief
the more heavy is. because they have no Instructor,
noi any to tell them what is to come.

CtriaKwia
would
have her
neighbour
with he I

Mercy
doublB of
aceeptaace

ChristiaEia
allures htr
to Ihc gait,
which Efi
Christ, and
prom! Beth
Ihere to
inquire
tor her

Mercy
pray*

ChriBIiana
g\id of
Mercy's
company

Mercy
gritves
for her
csrnat
relsliaiis

192

PILGRIM'S PROGEESS

Chri*.
Uin'l
jitajeri
were
answered
for his
rcJaticdiB
afler be
wu dead

Chris. Bowels becomelh Pilgjims ; and thou
for thy Friends as my good Christian did for me
when he left me; he mourned for that I would not
heed nor regard him, but his Lord and ours did
gather up his Tears, and pul them into his Bottle;
and now both I and thou and these my sweet Babes,
are reaping; the fruit and benefit of them. I hope,
Mercy, these Tears of thine will not be lost; for the
truth hath said, That they that sow in Tears shall
reap in Joy, in singing. And he thai goelk forth
and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless
come again ivith rejoicing, bringing his Sheaves
with him.

Then said Mercy,

Let tliE Most Blessed be my enide.
If 'I be hia blessed will,
Unto his Gale, unto his Fold,
Up to his Hoi/ HilL

And let hini never suffer rae
To swerve or turn aside
From his free grace and holy ways,
Wbate'er shol] me bclide-

And let him gather them of mine,
That I hove left behind;
Lord make them pray Ihey may be (hiti^
With all their heart and mind.

PintPwt, Now my old Friend proceeded and said: But
P- " when Christiana came up to the Slougii of Dispond,

she began to be at a stand; for said she, This is
the place in which my dear Husband had like to have
Their own been smothered with mud. She perceived also, that
notwithstanding the command of the King' to make
this place for Pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse
than fonnerly. So I asked if that was true. Yes,
said the Old Gentleman, too true, for that many
there be that pretend to be the King's Labourers,
and that say they are for mending the King's High-
way, that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and
10 mar instead of mending. Here Christiana there-
fore with her Boys, did make a stand; but said

omal
condu.
aioni. in-
stead of
the Word
Of life

PILGRIM'S PROGKESS

193

H

ercy. Come let us venture, only let us be wary.
Then they looked well to the steps, and made a
shift to get staggeringly over.

Yet Christiana had like to a been in, and that
not once nor twice. Now they had no sooner got
over, but they thought they heard words that said
unto them. Blessed is she that believetk, for there
shall be a performance of the things that have been
told her from the Lord.

Then they went on again; and said Mercy to
Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a lov-
ing reception at the Wickct-gate as you, I think
no Slough of Dispond would discourage me.

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I
know mine; and good friend, we shall all have
enough evil before we come at our Journey's end.

For can it be imagined, that the people that design
to attain such excellent Glories as zi-e do, and that
are so envied that Happiness as we are; but that we
shall meet with what Fears and Scares, with what
Troubles and Afflictions, they can possibly assault
us with that hate us?

• And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my
Dream by myself. Wherefore me-thought I saw
Christiana and Mercy and the Boys go all of them
up to the Gate; to which when they were come,
they betook themselves to a shori debate about how
they must manage their calling at the Gate, and what
should be said to him that did open to them. So it
was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that
she should knock for entrance, and that she should
speak to him that did open for the rest. So Chris-
liana began to knock, and as her poor Husband did,
she knocked and knocked again. But instead of any
that answered, they all thought that they heard
as if a Dog came barking upon them; a Dog, and
a great one too, and this made the Women and
Children afraid: nor durst they for a while to knock
any more, for fear the Mastiff should fly upon them.
Nqw therefore they were greatly tumbled up and

HO—Vol. 15—7

Mercy
tbe boldect
31 Ibr
Slough of
Dlapocd

Prayer
Bhouldbe
iQDdc with
considera-
lion and
fesr, Bs
well dS
in faith
and Jiope

First Part,

The dog,
Ihe devil,
an enemy
iQ prayer

IM

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Chrittiina
end bcr
compan-
ions per-

flborrt
prayer

Christiana
is enler-
lain«d at
the Bate

down in their minds, and knew not what to do.
Knock they durst not, for fear of the Dog; go back
they durst not, for fear that the Keeper of that
Gale should espy them as they so went, and should
be offended with them. At last they thought of
knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than
they did at the first. Then said the Keeper of the
Gate, Who is there? So the Dog left off to bark,
and he opened unto them.

Then Christiana made low obeisance and said,
Let not our Lord be offended with his Hand-
maidens, for that we have knocked at this princely
Gate. Then said the Keeper, Whence come ye, and
what is that you would have?

Christiana answered, We are come from whence
Chrislian did come, and upon the same Errand as
he; to wit, to be if it shall please you, graciously ad-
mitted by this Gate into the way that leads fo the
Ccelestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next
place, that I am Christiana, once the Wife of Chris-
Han that now is gotten above.

With that the Keeper of the Gate did marvel,
saying, Whal is she become now a Pilgrim, that
but a while ago abhorred that life? Then she bowed
her head, and said. Yes, and so are these my sweet
Babes also.

Then he took her by the hand, and let her in,
and said also. Suffer the Utile Children to come
unto me; and with that he shut up the Gate. This
done, he called to a Trumpeter that was above
over the Gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting
and sound of Trumpet for joy. So he obeyed
and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious
notes.

Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without,
trembling and crying for fear that she was rejected.
But when Christiana had gotten admittance for her-
self and her Boys, then she began to make inter-
cession for Mercy.

Chbis. And she said. My Lord, I have a Com-

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

185

panion of mine that stands yet without, that is come
hither upon the same account as myself; one that
is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes,
KS she thinks, without sending for, whereas I was
tent to by my Husband's King to come.

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each
minute was as long to her as an hour, wherefore she
prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for
her, by knocking at the Gate herself. And she
knocked then so loud, that she made Christiana to
start. Then said tlie Keeper of the Gate, Who is
there? and said Christiana, It is my Friend.

So he opened the Gate, and looked out; but Mercy
was fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted,
and was afraid that no Gate would be opened to her.

Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel,
I bid thee arise.

Oh Sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life
left in me. But he answered, That one once said,
When my sou) fainted within me; I reniembred the
Lord, and my prayer came in unto thee, into thy
Holy Temple. Fear not, but stand upon thy feet,
and tell me wherefore thou art come.

Mescy. I am come for that unto which I was
never invited as my Friend Christiana was. Hers
was from the King, and mine was but from her :
wherefore I fear I presume.

Did she desire thee to come with her to this
Place?

Mercv. Yes; and as my Lord sees I am come.
And if there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to
spare, I beseech that I thy poor Handmaid may
be partaker thereof.

Then he took her again by the hand, and led her
gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe
on me, by what means soever they come unto me.
Then said he to those that stood by, Fetch some-
thing, and give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby
to stay her fainting. So they fetch'd her a bundle
of Myrrh, and a. while after she was revived.

Chris-

liana's

praytr

fur her

friend

Mercy

The dtlaya
make the
hungering
soul thp
ferventer

Merer
faiats

The cause
of her
faistiiig

Mart this

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Cbriit
emcifitfd

afamS

Tilkb*-

And now was Chriitiana and her Boys and Mercy,
received of the Lord, at the head of the way, and
spoke kindly unto by him.

Then said they yet further unto him, We are sorry
for our sins, and beg of our Lord his Pardon, and
further information what we must do,

I grant Pardon, said he, by word and deed; by
word, in the promise of forgiveness; by deed, in
the way I obtained it. Take the first from my lips
with a kiss, and the other as it shall be revealed.

Now I saw in my Dream that he spake many good
words unto them, whereby they were greatly glad-
ded. He also had them up to the top of the Gate,
and shewed them by what deed they were saved;
and told them withal that that sight they would
have again as they went along in the way, to their
comfort.

So he left them a while in a Summer Parlor below,
Chrittiaia where they entred into talk by themselves ; and thus
Christiana began: O Lord! how glad am I that we
are got in hither.

Mekcv. So you well may; but I of all have cause
to leap for joy.

Chris. I thought one time, as I stood at the Gate
(because I had knocked and none did answer) that
all our labour had been lost, specially when that
ugly Cur made such a heavy barking against us,

Mercv. But my worst fears was after I saw thai
you was taken into his favour and that I was left
behind. Now thought I 'tis fulfilled which is writ-
ten, Two uiomen shall be grinding together, the
one shall be taken and the other left. I had much
ado to forbear crying out, Undone, undone.

And afraid I was to knock any more ; but when
I looked up to what was written over the Gate, I
took courage. I also thought that I must either
knock again, or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell
how, for my spirit now struggled betwixt life and
death.

Chris. Can you not tell how you knocked? I am

Krrt Part.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

197

sure your knocks were so earnest, that the very
sound of them made me start; I thought I never
heard such knocking in all my life; I thought you
would a come in by violent hands, or a took the
Kingdom by storm.

Mercy. Alas, to be in my case, who that so was
could but a done so? You saw that the Door was
shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel
Dog thereabout. Who, I say, that was so faint-
hearted as I, that would not have knocked with all
their might ? But pray what said my Lord to my
rudeness ? was he not angry with me ?

Chris. When he heard your lumbering noise, he
gave a wonderful innocent smile; 1 believe what you
did pleased him well enough, for he shewed no
sign to the contrary. But I marvel in my heart why
he keeps such a Dog; had I known that afore, I
fear I should not have had heart enough to a ven-
tured myself in this manner. But now we are in,
we are in, and I am glad with all my heart.

Mercy. I will ask if you please next time he
comes down, why he keeps such a filthy Cur in his
yard; I hope he will not take it amiss.

Ay do, said the Children, and persuade him to
hang him, for we are afraid he will bite us when
we go hence.

So at last he came down to them again, and
Mercy fell to the ground on her face before him and
worshipped, and said, Let my Lord accept of the
sacrifice of Praise which I now offer unto him with
the calves of my lips.

So he said unto her. Peace be to thee, stand up.
But she continued upon her face and said, Righteous
art tkoxi Lord when I plead with thee, yet let me
talk with thee of thy Judgments. Wherefore dost
thou keep so cruel a Dog in thy yard, at the sight
of which such Women and Children as we are ready
to fly from thy Gate for fear?

He answered and said, That Dog has another
owner ; he also is kept close in another man's ground

Christ! ana
tlunks her
companion
prays
better
than Eh«

Chriit
pipascd
with loud
and rest,
lets pTidsct

If the soul
fit first did
know all it
should meet
with in Ita
jtFuraey to
heaven, it
would
hardly rren
set out
Tlie cUI-
drea are
afraid o!
the dog

Mercy ei-
pQstuiaEes
about
the dog

Devil

ISB

First Part,

lo Lhc car-
nil fclr

of ihc

plignma

Chriitiaas,
tfhcn wjse

acquiesce
in the
wisdom of
their Lord

First Part,
p. 31

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

only my Pilgrims hear his barking ; lie belongs
to the Castle which you see there at a distance, but
can come up to the walls of this place. He has
frighted many an honest Pilgrim from worse to
better, by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed
he that owneth him doth not keep him of any good
will to me or mine, but with intent to keep the
Pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be
afraid to knock at this Gate for entrance. Some-
times a!so he has broken out, and has worried some
that I love; but I take all at present patiently. I
also give my Pilgrims timely help, so they are not
delivered up to his power, to do to them what his
doggish nature would prompt him to. But what I my
purchased one, I tro, hadst thou known never so
much beforehand, thou wouldest not have been
afraid of a Dog,

The Beggars that go from Door to Door, will,
rather than they will lose a supposed Alms, run the
hazard of the bawling barking and biting too of a
Dog; and shall a Dog, a Dog in another man's yard,
a Dog whose barking I turn to the profit of Pilgrims,
keep any from coming to me? I deliver them from
the Lions, their Darling from the power of the
Dog.

Mercy. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance;
I spake what I understood not ; I acknowledge that
thou doest all things well.

Chkis. Then Christiana began to talk of thrir
Journey, and to enquire after the way. So be fed
them, and washed their feet, and set them in the
way of his steps, according as he had dealt with
her Husband before. So I saw in my Dream that
they walk'd on their way, and had the weather
very comfortable to them.

Then Christiana began to sing, saying.

niess'd be tlie Day tbat I bcgao
A Pilgrim for to be ;
And lilessed also be tliat man
That thereto moved me.

PILGRIM'S PEOGRESS

199

Tts true, 'twas long ere I b^an
To seek tq live for ever:
But now I run fast as I can ;
"Tis better late than never.

Our Tears to Joy, our Fears lo Faith,
Are turned, as we see,
Thus our beginning (as one saith,)
Shews what our end will be.

Now there was, on the other side of the Wall that
in the way up which Christiana and her
Companions were to go, a Garden, and that Garden
belonged to him whose was that barking Dog o£
whom mention was made before. And some of the
Fruit-Trees that grew in that Garden shot their
branches over the Wall; and being mellow, they
that found them did gather thera up, and oft eat of
thera to their hurt. So Christiana's Boys, as Boys
are apt to do, being pleas'd with the trees, and with
the Fruit that did hang thereon, did plash' them, and
began to eat. Their mother did also chide them
for so doing, but still the Boys went on.

Well, said she, my Sons, you transgress, for that
Fruit is none of ours; but she did not know that
they did belong to the Enemy; I'll warrant you if
she had, she would a been ready to die for fear.
But that passed, and they went on their way.
Now by that they were gone about two bow-shots
from the place that let them into the way, they
espied two very ill-favoured ones coming down
apace to meet them. With that Christiana and
Mercy her Friend covered themselves with their
Vails, and so kept on their Journey; the Children
also went on before, so that at last they met to-
gether. Then they that came down to meet them,
came just up to the Women as if they would em-
brace them ; but Christiana said. Stand back, or go
peaceably by as you should. Yet these two, as men
that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but
\>Ggan to lay hands upon them. At that Christiana

' Bend them down wilh WiclH.

The derit-B

sarden

The ciiil-
dren « at
of tlie
cnemj's
fruit

Two ill-

ffvuuted
ones

Ther

assault
Christiana

The
pilgriraa
struggle
withlhem

aoD

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

She criH

out

Tt 13 good
IQ cry out
vhfn
we arc
UMulled

The

comn

waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her feet
Mercy also as well as she could, did what she could
to shift them. Christiana again said to them. Stand
back, and be gone, for we have no money to lose,
being Pilgrims as ye see, and such too as live upon
the Charity of our Friends.

Ill-fav. Then said one of the two of the men. We
make no assault upon you for your Money, but are
come out to tell you, that if you will grant one small
request which we shall ask, we will make Women of
you for ever,

Chris. Now Christiana imagining what they
should mean, made answer again, We will ndlher
hear, nor regard, nor yield to what you shall ask.
We are in haste, cannot stay, our business is a
business of Life and Death. So again she and her
Companions made a fresh assay to go past them,
but they letted them in their way.

Ill-fav. And they said. We intend no hurt to
your lives, 'tis another thing we would have.

Chris. Ah, quoth CkrisUana. you would have tis
Body and Soul, for I know 'tis for that you are
come; but we will die rather upon the spot, than
suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares as
shall hazard our well-being hereafter. And with
that they both shrieked out, and cried, Murder,
murder: and so put themselves under those Laws
that are provided for the Protection of Women.
Rut the men still made their approach upon them,
with design to prevail against them: they therefore
cried out again.

Now they being, as I said, not far from the Gate
in at which they came, their voice was heard from
where they was, thither. Wherefore some of the
House came out, and knowing that it was Christiana's
tongue they made haste to her relief. But by that
they was got within sight of them, the Women was
in a very great scuffle, the children also stood crying
by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out
to the RufBans, saying. What is that thing that you

<

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

201

do? Would yoa make my Lord's people to trans-
gress? He also attempted to take them, but they
did make their escape over the Wall into the Garden
of the man to whom the great Dog belonged ; so the
Dog became their Protector. This Reliever then
came up to the Women, and asked them how they
did. So they answered, We thaak thy Prince, pretty
well, only we have been somewhat affrighted ; we
thank thee also for that thou camest in to our help,
for otherwise we had been overcome.

Reliever. So after a few more words, this Re-
liever said as followeth ; I marvelled much when
you were entertained at the Gate above, being yc
know that ye were but weak Women, that you pe-
titioned not the Lord there for a Conductor; then
might you have avoided these troubles and dangers,
for he would have granted you one.

Chbis, Alas I said Christiana, we were so taken
with our present blessing, that dangers to come were
forgotten by us; besides, who could have thought
that so near the King's Palace there should have
lurked such naughty ones? Indeed it had been
well for us, had we asked our Lord for one;
but since our Lord knew 'tivould be for our profit,
I wonder he sent not one along with us!

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things
not asked for, lest by so doing they become of little
esteem ; but when the want of a thing is felt, it then
comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that
estimate that properly is its due, and so consequently
will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you
a Conductor, you would not neither so have bewailed
that oversight of yours in not asking for one as now
you have occasion to do. So all things work for
good, and tend to make you more wary.

CuRis. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and
confess our folly, and ask one?

Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present
him with. To go back again you need not; for in
all places where you &haU come, you will find no

The ill
oncfl fly to
the devil
for relief

The

Reliever
[alkB ID llie
wonien

Mark this

Welou

for want
of lakjug
for

m

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

The rait-

take of
Mercy

Cbris-
tisna's
guilt

Chtis-

dreflni
repeated

Mefcj

makes
good use
of f heir
Deglect of
duLj

want at all, for m every of my Lord's Lodgings
which he has prepared for the reception of his
Pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish them against
all attempts whatsoever. But as I said, he will be
enquired of by them to do it for them: and 'tis
a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he
had thus said, he went back to his place, and the
Pilgrims went on their way.

Mercy. Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank
is here ! I made account we had now been past all
danger, and that we sbould never see sorrow more.

Chris. Thy innoeeHcy, My Sister, said Christiana
to Mercy, may excuse thee much ; but as for me, ray
fault is so much the greater, for thai I saw this
danger before I came out of the Doors, and yet did
not provide for it where provision might a heen had.
I am therefore much to be blamed.

Mercy. Then said Mercy, How knew you this be-
fore you came from home ? Pray open to me this
riddle.

Chris. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out
of doors, one night as I lay in my bed, I had a
Dream about this; for methought 1 saw two men
as like these as ever the world they could look,
stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might
prevent my Salvation. I wiil icU you their very
words. They said { 'twas when I was in my
Troubles (IVhat shall we do with litis IFomanT for
she cries out waking and sleeping, for forgiveness;
if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall
lose her as we have lost her Husband. This you
know might a made me take heed, and have pro-
vided when provision might a been had.

Mercy. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we
have an occasion ministred unto us 'o behold our own
imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion there-
by to make manifest the riches of his Grace. For
he, as we see, has followed us with unasked kind-
ness, and has delivered ns from their hands that
were stronger than we, of his mere good pleasure.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

M

Thus now when they had talked away a little
more time, they drew nigh to an House which stood
in the way, which House was built for the relief
of Pilgrims; as you will find more fully related in
the First Part of these Records of the Pilgrim's
Progress. So they drew on towards the House
(the House of the Interpreter) ; and when they came
to the door, they heard a great talk in the House,
They then gave ear, and heard, as they thought,
Christiana mentioned by name. For you must know
that there went along, even before her, a ta!k of
her and her Children's going on Pilgrimage. And
this thing was the more pleasing to them, because
they had heard that she was Christian's Wife, that
Woman who was some time ago so unwilling to hear
of going on Pilgrimage. Thus therefore they stood
still and heard the good people within commending
her, who they little thought stood at the door. At
last Christiana knocked as she had done at the Gate
before. Now when she had knocked, there came to
the door a young Damsel, and opened the door and
looked, and behold two Women was there.

Damsel. Then said the Damsel to them, With
whom would you speak in this place?

Chris. Christiana answered. We understand that
this is a privileged place for those that are become
Pilgrims, and we now at this door are such ; where-
fore we pray that we may be partakers of that for
which we at this time are come; for the day,
as thou seest, is very far spent, and we are loth
to-night to go any further.

Damsel. Pray what may I call your name, that
I may tell it to my Lord within?

Chris. My name is Christiana; I was the Wife of
that Pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way,
and these be his four Children. This Maiden also is
my Companion, and is going on Pilgrimage too.

Innocent. Then ran Innocent in (for that was
her name) and said to those witliin, Can you think
who is at the door? There is Christiana and her

Talk In
iho Inter-
pre[pr'»
iiouae
about
Chris-
tiana's
going on
pilgrjoiagc

She knocla
at the door

Tbc door
is opFned
to thrm by
Innocent

2M

FILGBIM'S PROGRESS

tbcteiue

of the

laterv"!"

Ihal

CbrittuM

IB turned

pilgrim

Old Hints
glad ID see

the young
onuwalk

in God't

The Sig-
nificant

Children and her Companion, all waiting for mter-
tainment here. ITien they leaped for joy, and went
and told their Master. So he came to ihe door, and
looking upon her, he said. Art thou that Christiana
whom Christian the Good-man left behind him, when
he betook himself to a Pilgrim's life?

CuBis. I am that Woman that was so hard-hearted
as to slight my Husband's Troubles, and that left
him to go on in his Journey alone, and these are
bis four Children; but now I also am come, for
I am convinced that no way is right but this.

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is written of
the man that said to his Son, Go work to-day in
my Vine-yard; and he said to his Father, I will not;
but afterwards repented and went.

Chhis. Then said Christiana, So be it, Atntn.
God make it a true saying upon me, and grant that
I may be found at the last of him in peace without
spot and blameless.

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door?
Come in, thou Daughter of j4braham. We was
talking of thee but now, for tidings have come to us
before how thou art become a Pilgrim. Come Chil-
dren, come in; come Maiden, come in. So he had
them all into the House.

So when they were within, they were bidden sit
down and rest them; the which when they had done,
those that attended upon the Pilgrims in the House,
came into the Room to see them. And one smiled,
and another smiled, and they all smiled for joy that
Christiana was become a Pilgrim. They also looked
upon the Boys : they stroked them over the faces
with the hand, in token of their kind reception of
them. They also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and
bid them all welcome into their Master's House.

After a while, because Supper was not ready, the
Interpreter took them into his signiUcant Rooms, and
shewed them what Christian, Christiana's Husband,
had seen some time before. Here therefore they
saw the Man in the Cage, the Man and his Dream,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

»H

the Man that cut his way through his Enemies, and
the Picture of the biggest of them all, together
with the rest of those things that were then so
profitable to Christian.

This done, and after these things had been some-
what digested by Christiana and her company, the
Interpreter takes thero apart again, and has them
first into a Room where was a Man that could look
no way but downwards, with a Muck-rake in his
hand. There stood also one over his head with a
Cosiestial Crown io his hand, and proffered him that
Crown for his Muck-rake; but the man did neither
look up. noi regard, but raked to himself the straws,
the small sticks and dust of the floor.

Then said Christiana, I pers'uade myself that I
know something of the meaning of this ; for this is a
figure of a Man of this World, is it not, good Sir ?

Inter. Thou hast said the right said he. and his
Muck-rake doth shew his carnal mind. And where-
as thou seest him rather give heed to rake up
Straws and sticks and the dust of the iloor, than
to what he says that calls to him from above with
the Ccelestial Crown in his hand, it is to shew that
Heaven is but as a fable to some, and that things
here are counted the only things substantial. Now
whereas it was also shewed thee that the man could
look no way but downwards, it is to let thee know
that earthly things when they are with power upon
men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from
God.

Chris. Then said Christiana, O deliver me from
this Muck-rake.

Intee. That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain
by till 'tis almost rusty. Give me not Riches, is
scarcely the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws
and sticks and dust with most are the great things
now looked after.

With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said.
It is alas ! too true,

Wlien the Interireter had shewed them this, he

First Pirt,

The man
with (he
(nuck-rBke
cxpouoded

Oirb-

tisiui'a
prayer

agaliun
the mudc-
rake

PtLGRIBTS PROGRESS

Of Ihe

•pider

had them into the rtry best Room in the House (a
very brave Room it was) so he bid them look round
about, and see if they could find anything profitable
there. Then they looked round and round, for there
was nothing' there to be seen but a very great Spider
on the wall, and that they overlook'd.

Mot, Then said Mercy. Sir, I sec nothing; but
Christiana held her peace.

Inter. But said the Interpreter, Look again; she
therefore iook'd again and said. Here is not any-
thing but an ugly Spider, who hangs by her hands
Upon the wall. Then said he, Is there but one
Spider in all this spacious Room ? Then the water
stood in Ckrisfiamfs eyes, for she was a woman
quick of apprehension ; and she said, Yes, Lord,
TaJksbani there is here more than one. Yea, and Spiders
theipuler ^hose Venom is far more destructive than that
which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleas-
antly upon her, and said, Thou hast said the truth.
This made Mercy blush, and the Boys to cover
their faces, for they all began now to understand the
Riddle.

Then said the Interpreter again. The Spider tak-
eth hold with her hands as you see, and is in King's
Palaces. And wherefore is this recorded, but to
shew you, that how full of the Venom of sin soever
you be, yet you may by the hand of faith lay hold
of and dwell in the best Room that belongs to the
King's House above ?

Chris. I thought, said Christiana, of some
thing of this, but I could not imagine it all. I
thought that we were like Spiders,, and that we
looked like ugly creatures, in what fine Room soever
we were ; but that by this Spider, this venomous and
ill-favoured creature, we were to learn horn to act
Faith, came not into my mind. And yet she has
taken hold with her hands, as I see, and dwells in
the best Room in the House, God has made noth-
ing in vain.
Then they seemed all to be glad, but the water

The inter-

pretition

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

207

I

I

I

stood in their eyes; yet they looked one upon an-
other, and also bowed before the Inlerpreter,

He had them then into another Room where was Of the
a Hen and Chickens, ai.d bid them observe a while, ^f^^^
So one of the Chickens went to the trough to
drink, and every time she drank she lift up her head
and her eyes towards Heaven. See, said he, what
this little Chick doth, and learn of her to acknowl-
edge whence yotir mercies come, by receiving them
with looking up. Yet again, said he, observe and
look; so they gave heed and perceived that the Hen
did walk in a four-fold method towards her
Chickens, i. She had a common call, and that she
hath all day long. 2. She had a special call, and
that she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding
note. And 4. She had an out-cry.

Now said he, compare this Hen to your King, and
these Chickens to his obedient ones. For answer-
able to her, himself has his methods which he
walketh in towards his People; by his common call
he gives nothing; by his special call he always has
something to give; he has also a brooding voice for
them that are under his wing; and he has an ok(-
cry to give the alarm when he seeth the Enemy
come. I chose, my Darlings, to lead you into the
Room where such things are, because you are Wom-
en, and they are easy for you.

Chris. And Sir, said Christiana, pray let as see
some more. So he had them into the Slaughter- Of the
house, where was a Butcher a killing of a Sheep; and'ihe
and behold the Sheep was quiet, and took her b1i«p
death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, Yon
must learn of this Sheep to suffer, and to put
up wrongs without murmurings and complaints.
Behold how quietly she taketh her death, and
without objecting she suffer eth her skin to be
pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you
bis Sheep.

After this he led them into his Garden, where Of tbe
was great variety ol Flowers, and he said, Do you ""den

I'S PROGRESS

Ofth*

field

Of the

mbiQ and

»ee all these? So Christiana said. Yes. Then saSi
he again, Behold the Flowers are diverse in stature,
in quality and colour and smell ajid vertue, and some
are belter than some; also where the Gardener has
set them there they Stand, and quarrel not with one
another.

Again, he had them into his Field, which he
had sowed with Wheat and Corn; but when they
beheld, the lops of all was cut off, only the straw
remained. He said again, This ground was dunged
and plowed and sowed, but what shall we do with
the Crop? Then said Christiana, Bum some, and
make muck of the rest. Then said the Interpreter
again, Fruit you see is that thing you look for.
and for want of that you condemn it to the fire, and
to be trodden under foot of men ; beware that in this
you condemn not yourselves.

Then as they were coming in from abroad, they
SeTpi^er ^^?^^^ 3 ''"I* RoHn with a great Spider in his
mouth. So the Interpreter said, Look here. So
they looked, and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana
said. What a disparagement is it to such a little
pretty bird as the Robin-red-breast is, he being also
a bird above many that loveth to maintain a kind
of sociabieness with man ; I had thought they had
lived upon crums of bread, or upon other such harm-
less matter. I like him worse than I did.

The Interpreter then replied, This Robin is an
emblem very apt to set forth some Professors by; for
to sight they are as this Robin, pretty of note colour
and carriage. They seem also to have a very great
love for Professors that are sincere ; and above all
other to desire to associate with, and to be in their
company, as if they couM live upon the good man's
crums. They pretend also that therefore it ii
that they frequent the house of the godly, and the
appointments of the I,ord: but when they arc by
themselves, as the Robin, they can catch and gobble
up Spiders, they can change their diet, drink
Iniquity, and swallow down Sin like water.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

I

I
I
I

So when they were come again into the house, Ptay, and
because Supper as yet was not ready, Christiana V'fT^
again desired that the Interpreter would either shew that which
or tell of some other things that are profitable. ^"cve 1 d

Then the Interpreter began and said, The falter
the Sow is, the more she desires the Mire; the fat-
ter the Ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the
slaughter; and the more healthy the lusty man is,
the more prone he is unto evil.

There is a desire in Woman to go neat and fine
and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that
that in God's sight is of great price.

'Tis easier watching a night or two, than to sit
up a whole year together; so 'lis easier for one to
begin to profess well, than to hold out as he should
to the end.

Every Ship-master when in a Storm, will willingly
cast that overboard that is of the smallest valve in
the vessel; but who will throw the best out first?
None but he that feareth not God.

One Leak will sink a ship, and one sin will
destroy a Sinner.

He that forgets his Friend is ungrateful unto him,
but he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to
himself.

He that lives in Sin, and looks for Happiness
hereafter, is like him that soweth Cockle, and thinks
to fill his Barn with Wheat or Barley.

If a man would live well, let him fetch his last
day to him, and make it always his Company-keeper.

Whispering and change of thoughts proves that
Sin is in the World.

If the World which God sets light by, is counted
a thing of that worth with men, what is Heaven
which God commendethf

If the Life that is attended with so many Troubles,
is so loth to be let go by us, what is the Life above?

Everybody will cry up the Goodness of Men; but
who is there thai is, as he should, affected with the
goodness of Godf

tu

PILGRIMS PItOGRESS

Of the
tree tbit
ii rotten
■I brut

They are

at supper

We seldom sil down to meat, but we eat a%
leave; so there is in Jesus Christ more Merit and
J^ighleousness than Ike whole World has Heed of.

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them
out into his Garden again, and had them to a Tree
whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it
grew and had Leaves, Then said Mercy, What
means this? This Tree, said he, whose outside is
fair, and whose inside is rotten, it is to which
many may be compared that are in the Garden of
God; who with their mouths speak high in behalf
of God, but indeed will do nothing for him; whose
Leaves are fair, but their heart good for nothing
but to be tinder for the Devil's tinder-box.

Now Supper was ready, the Table Spread, and
all things set on the board; so they sate down and
did eat when one had given thanks. And the
Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged
with him with Musick at Meals, so the Minstrels
played. There was also one that did sing, and a
very fine voice he had. His Song was this:

The Lord is only my support,

And be that doth me feed :
How cat! 1 tben want anything

Whereof I stand in need?

Arcpett
tJoD a£
Chris-
tiaaa'*

Talk at When the Song and Musick was ended, the

Interpreter asked Christiana, What it was that at
first did move her to betake herself to a Pilgrim's
life?

Christiana answered, First, the loss of my Hus-
band came into my mind, at which I was heartily
grieved; but all that was but natural affection. Then
experience ^ifg^ ,^3^ ^^^^ ^^^ Troubles and Pilgrimage of
my Husband's into my mind, and also how like
a churl I had carried it to him as to that. So guilt
took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me
into the Pond ; but that opportunely I had a Dream
of the well-being of my Husband, and a Letter
sent me by the King of that Country where my

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

211

I

I

Husband dwells, to come to him. The Dream
and the Letter together so wrought upon my mind,
that they forced me to this way.

Inter. But met you with no opposition afore you
set out of doors?

Chris. Yes, a Neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timor-
ous (she was akin to him that would have per-
suaded my Husband to go back for fear of the
Lions). She all to-befooled' me for as she called
it my intended desperate adventure; she also urged
what she could to dishearten me to it, the hardship
and Troubles that my Husband met with in the way:
but all this I got over pretty well. But a Dream
that t had of two ill-looked ones, that I thought
did plot how to make me miscarry in my Journey,
that hath troubled me much; yea, it still runs in
my mind, and makes me afraid of every one that I
meet, lest they should meet me to do nae a mischief,
and to turn me out of the way. Yea, I may tell
my Lord, tho' I would not have everybody know
it, that between this and the Gate by which we got
into the way, we were both so sorely assaulted, that
we were made to cry out Murder, and the two that
made this assault upon us were like the two that I
saw in my Dream,

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is AqueMion
good, thy latter end shall greatly increase. So^^^^
he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto
her. And what moved thee to come hither sweet
heart?

Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while
continued silent.

Intee. Then said he. Be not afraid, only believe.
and speak thy mind.

Mercy. So she began and said. Truly Sir, my Mcrcjr's
want of Experience is that that makes me covet to =""'*'
be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears
of coming short at last. I cannot tell of Visions
and Dreams as my friend Christiana can, nor know

■ Tlie fotec of IhE " to" ia iDleuive.

SB

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

I what it is to mourn for my refusing of the counsd
of those that were good Relations.

Inteb. What was it then, dear heart, that
hatb prevailed with thee to do as thou hast
done?

Mekcv. Why, when our friend here was packing
up to be gone from our Town. I and another went
accidentiy to see her. So we knocked at the door
and went in. When we were within and seeing
what she was doing, we asked what was her mean-
ing. She said she was sent for to go to her Hus-
band ; and then she up and told us how she had seen
him in a Dream, dwelling in a curious place among
Immortals, wearing a Crown, playing upon a Harp,
eating and drinking at his Prince's Table, and sing-
ing Praises to him for bringing him hither, &c.
Now raethought while she was telling these things
unto us, my heart burned within me; and I said
in my heart. If this be true, I will leave my Father
and my Mother and the Land of my Nativity, and
will, if I may, go along with Christiana,

So I asked her further of the truth of these things,
and if she would let me go with her; for I saw
now that there was no dwelling, but with the danger
of mine, any longer in our Town. But yet I came
away with a heavy heart, not for that I was un-
willing to come away, but for that so many of my
Relations were left behind. And I am come
with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if
I may, with Christiana, unto her Husband and
his King.

Inteb. Thy setting out Js good, for thou hast
given credit to the truth. Thou art a Ruth, who
did for the love she bore to Naomi and to the Lord
her God. leave Father and Mother and the Land
of her Nativity, to come out, and go with a people
that she knew not heretofore. Tke Lord recom-
pense Iky work, and a full reward be given thee
of the Lord God of Israel, under whose Wings thou
art come to trust.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

213

^

i

Now Supper was ended, and Preparation was
made for Bed; the Women were laid singly alone,
and the Boys by themselves. Now when Mercy
was in Bed, she could not sleep for joy, for that
now her doubts of missing at last were removed
further from her than ever they were before. So
she lay blessing and praising God who had had
such favour for her.

In the morning they arose with the Sun, and
prepared themselves for their departure; but the
IntETpreler would have them tarry awhile, for said
he, you must orderly go from hence. Then said he
to the Damsel that at first opened unto them, Take
them and have them into the Garden to the Bath,
and there wash them, and make them clean from
tlie soil which they gathered by travelling. Then
Innocent the Damsel took them, and had them into
the Garden, and brought them to the Bath; so she
told them that there they must wash and be clean,
for so her Master would have the Women to do
that called at his house, as they were going on
Pilgrimage, They then went in and washed, yea
they and the Boys and all; and they came out of
that Bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much
enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when
they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when
they went out to the washing.

When they were returned out of the Garden from
the Bath, the Interpreter took them and looked
upon them and said unto them, Fair as the Moon.
Then he called for the Seal wherewith they used
to be sealed that were washed in his Bath, So the
Seal was brought, and he set his Mark upon them,
that they might be known in the places whither
they were yet to go. Now the Seal was the con-
tents and sum of the Passover which the Children
of Israel did eat when they came out from the land
of Egypt, and the Mark was set between their eyes.
This Seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was
an ornament to their faces. It also added to their

Ther

thcmseTvrtf
for bed

Mercy's
gnod
night's
rcat

Thfbath
Sanclifi-
cation

They wash
in it

They ue

■csled

m

Ther are

Trae

tiunulity

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

gravity, and made their countenances more like
them of Angels.

Then said the Interpreter again to the Damsel
that waited upon these Women, Go into the Vestry
and fetch out Garments for these people; so she
went and fetched out white Raiment, and laid it
down before him ; so he commanded them to put
it on, // was fine linen, while and clean. When the
Women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a
terror one to the other, for that they could not see
that glory each one on herself which they could
see in each other. Now therefore they began to
esteem each other better than themselves. For you
are fairer than I am, said one; and you are more
comely than I am, said another. The Children also
stood amazed to see into what fashion they were
brought.

The Interpreter then called for a Man-servant
of his, one Great-heart, and bid him take sword
»nd helmet and shield; and take these my Daughters,
said he, and conduct them to the house called Beau-
tiful, at which place they will rest next. So he took
his Weapons and went before them, and the In-
terpreter said, God speed. Those also that belonged
to the Family sent them away with many a good
wish. So they went on their way and sung.

This place has been our second stage.
Here we have heard and Been
Those good things that from age to age,
To others hid have been.

The Dunghill- raker, the Spider, Hen,
The Chicken too to me
Hath taught a leMon ; let me then
Conformed to it be.

The Butcher. Garden, and the Field,
The Robin and his bait,
Also the Rotten Tree doth yield
Me argument of weight.

To move me for to watch Bod pray.
To strive to be sincere,
To take my Cross up day by day.
And serve the Lord with fear.

FILGRIM'S PROGRESS

3U

I

Now I saw in my Dream that they went on, and
Great-heart went before them; so they went and
came to the place where Christian's Burden fell
off his back and tumbled into a Sepulchre. Here
then they made a pause, and here also they blessed
God. Now said Christiana, it comes to my mind
what was said to us at the Gate, to wit, that we
should have pardon by word and deed: by word,
that is, by the promise ; by deed, to wit, in the way
it was obtained. What the promise is, of that I
know something; but what it is to have pardon
by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr
Greal-heart, I suppose you know; wherefore if you
please let us hear your discourse thereof.

Great-heart. Pardon by ihe deed done, is pardon Aeommfnt
obtained by some one for another that hath need "P"" "■''*'
thereof, not by the person pardoned, but in the ^^"'
way, saith another, in which I have obtained it. gats, on
So then to apeak to the question more large, the f(™°"'**
pardon that yon and Mercy and these Boys have being jus-
attained, was obtained by another, to wit, by him ^?'!'i''
that let you in at the Gate; and he hath obfain'd
it in this double way, he has perfonned Righteous-
ness to cover you, and spilt Blood to wash you in.

Chris. But if he parts with his Righteousness to
us, what will he have for himself?

Great-heakt. He has more Righteousness than
you have need of, or than he needeth himself.

Chris. Pray make that appear.

Great-heart. With all my heart; but first I
must premise that he of whom we are now about
to speak is one that has not his fellow. He has two
Natures in one Person, plain to be distinguished,
impossible to be divided. Unto each of these Na-
tures a Righteousness belongeth, and each Right-
eousness is essential to that Nature; so that mie
may as easily cause the Nature to be extinct, as
to separate its Justice or Righteousness from it.
Of these Righteousnesses therefore we are not made
parUkers, so as that they, or any of them, should

tu

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

be put upon as that we might be made just, and live
thereby. Besides these there is a Righteousness
which this Person has, as these two Natures are
joined in one. And this is not the Righteousness
of the Godhead, as distinguished from the Manhood;
nor the Righteousness of the Manhood, as distin-
guished from the Godhead; but a Righteousness
which siandeth in the union of both Natures, and
may properly be called, the Righteousness that is
essential to his being prepared of God to the capacity
of the Mediatory Office which he was to be in-
trusted with. If he parts with his first Righteous-
ness, he parts with his Godhead; if he parts with
his second Righteousness, he parts with the purity
of his Manhood; if he parts wiih this third, he parts
with that perfection that capacitates him to the
Office of Mediation. He has therefore another
Righteousness, which standeth in performance, or
obedience to a revealed will; and that is that he
puts upon Sinners, and that by which their sins
are covered- Wherefore he saith, as by one man's
disobedience many were made Sinners, so by the
obedience of one shall many be made Righteous.

Chris. But are the other Righteousnesses of no
use to us?

Great-heart. Yes, for though they are essentia!
to his Natures and Office, and so cannot be com-
municated unto another, yet it is by vertue of them
that the Righteousness that justifies is for that
purpose efficacious. The Righteousness of his God-
head gives virtue to his Obedience; the Righteous-
ness of his Manhood giveth capability to his obedi-
ence to justify; and the Righteousness that standeth
in the union of these two Natures to his Office,
giveth authority to that Righteousness to do the
work for which it is ordained.

So then here is a Righteousness that Christ as
God has no need of, for he is God without it ; here
is a Righteousness that Christ as Man has no need
of to make him so, lor he is gerfect Man without

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

ai7

again, here is a Righteousness that Christ as
God-man has no need of, for he is perfectly so with-
out it. Here then is a Righteousness that Christ,
as God, as Man, as God-man, has no need of, with
reference to himself, and therefore he can spare it ;
a justifying Righteousness that he for himself
wantelh not, and therefore he givcth it away ; hence
'tis called the gift of Righteousness. This Right-
eousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made him-
self under the Law, must be given away; for the
Law doth not only bind him that is under it to
do justly, but to use Charity. Wherefore he tnust,
he ought by the Law, if he hath two Coals, to give
one to him that hath none. Now our Lord indeed
hath two Coats, one for himself, and one to spare;
wherefore he freely bestows one upon those that
have none. And thus Christiana, and Mercy, and
the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon
come by deed, or by the work of another maiu
Your Lord Christ is he that has worked, and has
given away what he wrought for to the next poor
beggar he meets.

But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must
something be paid to God as a price, as well as
something prepared to cover us withal. Sin has
delivered us up to the just curse of a righteous Law;
now from this curse we must be justified by way
of redemption, a price being paid tor the harms

I we have done ; and this is by the Blood of your
Lord, who came and stood in your place and stead,
and died your death for your transgressions. Thus
has he ransomed you from your transgressions by
Blood, and covered your polluted and deformed
souls with Righteousness. For the sake of which
God passeth by you, and will not hurt you when
he comes to judge the World,

Chris. This is brave. Now I see that there christiaM
was something to be learned by our being pardoned afc"cd
by word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labour to'^^^lf^^

keep this in mind, and my Children, do you remem- dempdaD

as

riLGiinrs progress

Howtbe
■trings

Uul bound
Chnstian's
burden
to him
wettcut

Hov af-
fection la
Chria is

begot in
tbcsoul

KirtPait.

Cmceaf

mdmiration

ber it also. But Sir, was not this it that made my
good Chrislian's Bnrden fall from off his shoulder,
and [hat made him give three leaps for joy?

Great-heart. Yes. 'twas the belief of ^s that
cut thase strings that could not be cut by other
means, and 'twas to give him a proof of the vertue
of this, that he was suffered to cany his Burden
to the Cross.

Chbis- I thought so, for tho* my heart was light-
ful and joyous before, yet it is ten times more light-
some and joyous now. And I am persuaded by
what I have felt, tho' I have felt but linle as yet,
that if the most burdened man in the world was
here, and did see and believe as I now do, 'twould
make hjs heart the more merry and blithe.

Great-heabt. There is not only comfort, and
the case of a Burden brought to us, by the sight
and consideration of these, but an iudeared affection
begot in us by it; for who can. if he doth but once
think that pardon comes, not only by promise but
thus, but he affected by the way and means of bis
redemption, and so with the man that hath wrought
it for him?

Chris. True, melhinks it makes my heart bleed
to think that he should bleed for me. Oh! thou
loving One. Oh 1 thou blessed One. Thou deservest
to have me, thou hast bought me; thou deservest
to have me all ; thou hast paid for me ten thousand
times more than I am worth. No marvel that this
made the water stand in my Husband's eyes, and
that it made him trudge so nimbly on; I am per-
suaded he wished me with him; but vile wretch
that I was, I let him come all alone, O Mercy,
that thy Father and Mother were here; yea. and
Mrs Timorous also; nay, I wish now with all my
heart, that here was Madam Wanton too. Surely,
surely, their hearts would be affected; nor coidd
the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the
other, prevail with them to go home again, and to
refuse to become good Pilgrims.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

219

Great-heart, You speak now in the warmth of
your affections: will it, think you, be always thus
with you? Besides, tliis is not communicated to
every one, nor to every one that did see your Jesus
bleed. There was that stood by, and that saw the
Blood run from his heart to the ground, and yet
were so far off this, that instead of lamenting, they
]aug;hed at him; and instead of becoming his Disci-
ples, did harden their hearts against him. So that
all that you have, my Daughters, you have by a
peculiar impression made by a divine contemplating
upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that
'twas told you, that the Hen by her common call
gives no meat to the Chickens. This you have there-
fore by a special Grace.

Now I saw still in my Dream, that they went
on until they were come to the place that Simple
and Slolh and Presumption lay and slept in, when
Christian went by on Pilgrimage. And behold they
were hanged up in irons, a little way off on the
other side.

Mercy. Then said Mercy to him that was their
Guide and Conductor, What are those three men?
and for what are they hanged there?

Great- HEART. These three men were men of
■very bad qualities, they had no mind to be Pilgrims
themselves, and whosoever they could they hindered.
They were for sloth and folly themselves, and who-
ever they could persuade with, they made so too,
and withal taught them to presume that they should
do well at last. They were asleep when Christian
went by, and now you go by they are hanged.

To be af-
fe[:ted with
Christ and
with whflt
he has
donct is a
IhinE
special

Simple,
and Slnth,
and Pre-

b^uniption
hanged,
and whjr

Behold here how the slothful are a sisn,

Hung up 'cause holy ways they did decline.

See here too how the child doth play the man.

And weak grow strong when Creat-heart leads the van.

Mehcv. But could they persuade any to be of
their opinion?

Great-keaki. Yes, they turned several out of the

220

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Their way. There waa Slotv-face that they persuaded

ciimu (Q do ^5 they. They also prevailed with one Short-

vjitid, with one No-hearl, with one Linger-after-iust,

WbotbcT and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman

:f«ai!sd iigj. najne „as Dw/i, to turn out of the way and

t^oui become as they. Besides they brought up an ill

of ihe*>T report of your Lord, persuading others that he was

a Task-master, They also brought up an evil report

of the good Land, saying 'twas not half so good

as some pretend it was. They also began to vilify

his Servants, and to count the very best of them

meddlesome troublesome busy-bodies. Further, they

would call the Bread of God Musks, the Comforts

of his Children Fancies, the Travel and Labour of

Pilgrims things to no purpose.

Chkis. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such,
they shall never be bewailed by me. They have
but what tliey deserve, and I think it is well that
they hang so near the High-way that others may
see and take warning. But had it not been well
if their crimes had been ingraven in some plate of
iron or brass, and left here, even where they did
their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men?

Great-heart. So it is, as you well may perceive
if you wil! go a little to the Wall.

Meecy. No, no, let them hang, and their names
rot, and their crimes live for ever against them,
I think it a high favour that they were hanged
afore we came hither, who knows else what they
might a done to such poor women as we are? Then
she turned it Into a Song, saying.

Now then ynu three, hanf; there and be b sign
To all tliac sbali against Ibe tmlh conbine.
And let him that comes after fear tbls end.
If uatfi Pilgrims he is not a Friend.
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware.
That unto holiness opposers are.

FifJtPirt, Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of

■■** the Hill Difficulty, where again their good Friend

Mr Great-hearl, took an occasion to tell them of

PILGRIM'S PEOGRESS

^

^
I

^

wtat happened there when Christian himself went
by. So he had them first to the Spring. Lo, saith
he, this is the Spring that Christian drank of before
he went up this Hill, and then 'twas dear and good,
but now 'tis dirty with the feet of some that are
not desirous that Pilgrims here should quench their
thirst. Thereat Mercy said. And why so envious,
tro? But said the Guide, It will do, if taken up,
and put into a vessel that is sweet and good ; for
then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water
will come out by itself more clear. Thus therefore
Christiana and her Companions were compelled to
do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen pot,
and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the
bottom, and then they drank thereof-
Next he shewed them the two by-ways that were
at the foot of the Hill, when Fortnalilyznd Hypoc-
risy lost themselves. And said he, these are dan-
gerous Paths. Two were here cast away when
Christian came by ; and although, as you see, these
ways are since stopped up with chains posts and a
dilch, yet there are that will chuse to adventure
here, rather than take the pains to go up this Hill,
Chris. The way of transgressors is hard. 'Tis
a. wonder that they can get into those ways without
danger of breaking their necks.

Great-heart. They will venture; yea, if at sny
time any of the King's servants doth happen to
see them, and doth call unto them, and tell them
ihat they are in the wrong ways, and do bid them
beware the danger, then they will railingly return
them answer and say, As for the ward that Ihott
hast spoken unto us in the name of the King, we
will not hearken unto thee; but we will certainly
do whatsoever thing goeth out of our ovm mouths,
&C. Nay if you look a little farther, you shall see
that these ways are made cautionary enough, not
only by these posts and ditch and chain, but also by
being hedged up; yet they will chose to go there.
Chexs. They are idle, Uiey love not to take pains.

Itii

difficult
gelling
of good
dociiine in
prroncoua
times

'By.pilhs,
though
bfirTPd up,
wi^l not
keep all
from eoin;
in them

PILGRIU'S PROGRESS

The rosoa
wby some
do chooie
lo go m
by-woys

The bill
pill a the
pitgrimi
Id it

They lit

in the
arbor

First Pitt,
fp- 47, 4S

The UtUe
boy's an-
swer to
the ijuide,
and al3i>
10 Mercy

Which i)
hardest^
up hill or
dowahUl?

up-hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled
unto them as it is written. The way of the slothful
man is a Hedge of Thorns, Yea, they will rather
chuse to walk upon a Snare, than to go up this Hill,
and the rest of this way to the Cily.

Then they set forward, and hegan to go up the
Hill, and up the Hill they went; but before they
got to the top, Christiana began lo pant, and said,
I dare say this is a breathing Hill. No marvel if
they that love their ease more than their souls,
chuse to themselves a smoother way. Then said
Mercy, I must sit down ; also the least of the Chil-
dren began to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart,
sit not down here, for a little above is the Prince's
Arbor. Then took he the little Boy by the band,
and led him up thereto.

When they were come to the Arbor, they were
very willing to sit down, for they were all in a
pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How sweet is rest
to them that labour. And how good is the Prince
of Pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them.
Of this Arbor I have heard much, but I never saw
it before. But here let us beware of sleeping; for
as I have heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear.

Then said Mr Great-heart to the little ones. Come
my pretty Boys, how do you do? What think you
now of going on Pilgrimage ? Sir, said the least,
I was almost beat out of heart, but I thank you for
lending me a hand at my need. And I remember
now what my Mother has told me, namely. That
the way to Heaven is as up a Ladder, and the way
to Hell is as down a Hill. But I had rather go up
the Ladder to Life, than down the Hill to Death.

Then said Mercy, But the Proverb is, To go down
the Hill is easy. But James said (for that was his
name) The day is coming when in my opinion
going down Hill will be the hardest of all. 'Tis
a good Boy, said his Master, thou hast given her
a right answer, Thca Mercy smiled, but the little
Boy (iid bluslu

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

323

»

^

Chris. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, Thty
a little to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here J^'"!^
to rest your legs? For I have here a. piece of Pom-
granate, which Mr Interpreter put in my hand, just
when I came out of his doors. He gave me also
a piece of an Hony-comb, and a little Bottle of
Spirits. I thought he gave you something, said
Mercy, because he called you a to-side. Yes, so he
did, said the other; but Mercy, it shall still be, as
I said it should, when at first we came from home,
thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I have,
because thou so willingly didst become my Com-
panion, Then she gave to them, and they did eat,
both Mercy and the Boys. And said Christiana to
Mr Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we? But he
answered, You are going on Pilgrimage, and pres-
ently I shall return : much good may what you have
do to you, at home I eat the same every day. Now
when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted
a little longer, their Guide said to them. The day
wears away, if you think good, let us prepare to be
going. So they got up to go, and the little Boys
went before. But Christiana forgat to take her Christiana
Bottle of Spirits with her, so she sent her little [""^J'y^
Boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I think this ofapirits
is a losing place. Here Christian lost his Roll,
and here Christiana left her Bottle behind her. Sir,
what is the cause of this? So their Guide made
answer and said. The cause is sleep or forget fulness:
some sleep when they should keep autake, and some
forget when they should remember ; and this is the
very cause, why often at the resting-places, some
Pilgrims in some things come off losers. Pilgrims M»ik Uiia
should watch, and remember what they have already
received under their greatest enjoj^nent; but for
want of doing so, oft-times their Rejoiung ends in piratPiru
Tears, and their Sun-shine in a Qoud: witness the pp.47. 48
story of Christian at this place.

When they were come to the place where Mistrust
and Timorous met Christian to persuade him to go

3H

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Firit Pstt.

An ciiib1«ni
of [hose
rliai eooD
brftvely
when there
■3 no daD-
gcr, bul
shrink
when
IroublcJ
come

OCGrim

Ihe Giant,
and oE hifl
backina:
Che lioni

back for fear of the Lions, they perceived as rt
were a Stage, and before it towards the Road a
broad plate with a Copy of Verses written thereon,
and underneath, the reason of raising up of that
Stage in that place rendered. The Verses were
these :

Let him that sees this Stage take be«d
Uuto his Hc»rt and Tungue;
Lest if he do not, here he speed
As some have l<.>ag a gone.

The words underneath the Verses were, This
Stage was buUt to punish such upon, who through
timorous ness or mistrust, shall be afraid So go
furSbfr on Pilgrimage. Also an this Stage bath
Mistrust and Timorous were burned through the
Tongue with an hat Iron, for endeavouring to hinder
Christian in his Journey.

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the sayin|
of the Beloved, IVhat shall be given unto thee? or
what shall be done unto thee, thou false Tongue?
Sharp Arrows of ihe mighty, with coals of Juniper.

So they went on, till they came within sight of
the Lions. Now Mr Great-heart was a strong man,
so he was not afraid of a Lion : but yet when they
were come up to the place where the Lions were,
the Boys that went before were glad to cringe be-
hind, for they were afraid of the Lions; so they
stept back, and went behind. At this their Guide
smiled, and said. How now, my Boys, do you love
to go before when no danger doth approach, and
love to come behind so soon as the Lions appear?

Now as they went up, Mr Great-heart drew his
Sword, with intent to make a way for the Pilgrims
in spite of the Lions. Then there appeared one,
that it seems, had taken upon him to back the Lions;
and he said to the Pilgrims' Guide, What is the
cause of your coming hither? Now the name of
that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of his
slaying of Pilgrims, and he was of the race of the
Giants.

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

^

»

225

Great- HE AKT. Then said the Pilgrims' Guide,
These Women and Children are going on Pilgrim-
age, and this is the way they must go, and go it
they shall in spite of thee and the Lions,

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they
go therein. I am come forth to withstand them,
and to that end will back the Lions.

Now to say truth, by reason of the fierceness
of the Lions, and of the grim carriage of him
that did back them, this way had of late lain much
un-occupied, and was almost all grown over with
Grass.

Chris. Then said Christiana, Tho' the Higji-ways
have been un-occupied heretofore, and tho' the
Travellers have been made in time past to walk
through by-paths, it must not be so now I am risen,
now I am risen a Mother in Israel.

Grim. Then he swore by Ike Lions, but it should,
and therefore bid them turn aside, for they should
not have passage there.

Great*heart. But their Guide made first his
approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him
with his Sword, that he forced him to a retreat.

Grim. Then said he (that attempted to back the
Lions) Will you slay me upon mine own ground?

Great- HEART, 'Tis the King's High-way that we a fight
are in, and in his way it is that thou hast placed be'wi-t
thy Lions; but these Women and these Children, qJ^™,.^"
tho' weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy ttari
Lions. And with that he gave him again a down-
right blow, and brought him upon his knees. With
this blow he also broke his Helmet, and with the
next he cut off an arm. Then did the Giant roar
so hideously, that his voice frighted the Women, and
yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon
the ground. Now the Lions were chained, and so The
of themselves could do nothing. Wherefore when "=>'>'?
old Grim that intended to back them was dead, Mr
Creat-keart said to the Pilgrims, Come now and
follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from

HC— Vol. IS— a

X2G

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Tbey paH
b; Iheliofu

TfacT come
la the por-
nr'alodce

heart
alleinpts to

a>> back

Thcpil-
orima im^
plore hi a
tampanr
■liU

the Lions. They therefore went on, but the Women
trembled as ihej passed by them; the Boys also
looked as if they would die, but they all got by
without further hurt

Now then they were within sight of the Porter's
Lodge, and they soon came up unto it; but they
made the more haste after this to go thither, because
'tis dangerous travelling there in the Night. So
whcu they were come to the Gate, the Guide
knocked, and the Porter cried, IVho U tkersf But
as soon as the Guide had said, /( is 1, he knew his
TOice, and came down (for the Guide had oft hefore
that come thither as a Conductor of Pilgrims),
When he was come down, he opened the Gate, and
seeing the Guide standing just before it (for he
saw not the Women, for they were behind him) he
said unto him, How now, Mr Great-heart, what is
your business here so late to-night? I have brought,
said he, some Pilgrims hither, where by my Lord's
commandment they must lodge. I had been here
some time ago, had I not been opjwsed by the
Giant that did use to back the Lions; but I after
a long and tedious combat with him, have cut
him off, and have brought the Pilgrims hither in
safety.

PoBTER. Will you not go in, and stay till morning?

GftEAT-HEABT. No, I will return to my Lord to-
night.

Chris. Oh Sir, I know not how to be willing
you should leave us in our Pilgrimage, you have
been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought
so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in coun-
selling of us, that I shall never forget your favour
towards us.

Mehcy. Then said Mercy, O that we might have
thy company to our Journey's end. How can such
poor Women as we hold out in a way so full of
troubles as this way is, without a Friend and De-
fender ?

Jaues. Then said James, the yotmgest of the

■

■

I

■

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Boyi, Pray Sir, be persuaded to go with us, and
help us, because we are so weak, and the way so
dangerous as it is.

Gheat-heart. I am at my Lord's commandment
If he shall allot me to be your Guide quite through,
I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed
at first ; for when he bid me come thus far with
you, then you should have begged me of him to
have gone quite through with you, and he would
have granted your request. However at present I
must withdraw, and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and
my brave Children, Adieu.

Then the Porter, Mr Watchful, asked Christiana
of her Country, and of her Kindred. And she said,
I came from the City of Destruction, I am a Widow
woman, and my Husband is dead, his name was
Christian the Pilgrim, How, said the Porter, was
he your Husband? Yes, said she, and these are his
Children; arid this, pointing to Mercy, is one of my
Towns-women. Then the Porter rang his bell, as
at sudi times he is wont, and there came to the
door one of the Damsels, whose name was Humble-
mind. And to her the Porter said, Go tell it within
that Christiana the Wife of Christian, and her Chil-
dren, are come hither on Pilgrimage. She went
in therefore and told it. But O what a noise for
gladness was there within, when the Damsel did
but drop that word out of her mouth.

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Chris-
tiana stood still at the door. Then some of the most
grave said unto her. Come in Christiana, come in
Ikou Wife of that good man, come in thou blessed
woman, come in with all that are ■with thee. So
she went in, and they followed her that were her
Children and her Companions. Now when they
were gone in, they were had into a very large room,
where they were bidden to sit down; so they sat
down, and the Chief of the house was called to see
and welcome the Guests. Then they came in, and
understanding who they were, did salute each other

227

Hllpldit
for want

for

First Part,
P.SO

Christlani
oiakci her-
self known
to tie
porter: he
tell 9 it to
adamHl

Joy at
the notsc
o( the
pilgtima
coming

Christians'
love is
kindled at
the sighl
o£one
another

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

with ft kiss, and said, Welcome ye Vessels of the
Grace of God, welcome to us your Friends.

Now because it was somewhat tate, and because
the Pilgrims were weary with their Journey, and
also made faint with the sight of the Fight and of
the terrible Lions, therefore they desired as soon as
might be, to prepare to go to rest. Nay, said those
of the Family, refresh yourselves first with a morsel
of Meat For they had prepared for them a I-amb,
with the accustomed Sauce belonging thereto; for
the Porter had heard before of their coming, and
had told it to them within. So when they had
supped, and ended their Prayer with a Psalm, they
desired they might go to rest. But let us, said
First Pari, Christiana, if we may be so bold as to chuse, he in
that Chamber that was my Husband's when he was
here. So they had them up thither, and they lay
all in a room. When they were at rest, Christiana
and ^fercy entred into discourse about things thai
were convenient.

Cheis. Little did I think once, that when my
Husband went on Pilgrimage, I should ever a fol-
lowed.

Mehcy. And you as little thought of lying in his
Bed and in his Chamber to rest, as you do now.

CuBis. And much less did I ever think of seeing
bis face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord
the King with him, and yet now I beheve I shall.

Mercy. Hark, don't you hear a noise?

Chris. Yes, 'tis as I believe, a noise of Musick
for joy that we are here.

Mercy, Wonderful ! Musick in the House, Mu-
sick in the Heart, and Musick also in Heaven, for
joy that we are here.

Thus they talked awhile, and then betook them-
selves to sleep. So in the morning, when they were
awake, Christiana said to Mercy:

Chris. What was the matter that you did laugh
in your sleep to-night. I suppose you was in a
Dream.

p. s;

Chrin'i

bofum
i> for all

4

Muiic

Utrej did
ba >lcep

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

229

Mescy. So I was, and a sweet Dream it was,
but are you sure I laughed?

Chris, Yes, yon laughed heartily; but prithee
Mercy, tell me thy dream.

Mebcv. I was a dreamed that I sat all alone in iietcfc.
3 solitary place, and was bMiioaning of the hardness ''"*"'
of my Heart.

Now I had not sat there long, but methought
many were gathered about me, to see me, and to
hear what it was tliat I said. So they hearkened,
and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my Heart
At this some of them laughed at me, some called
me Fool, and some began to thrust me about. With J^''"' ^"
that, methought I looked up, and saw one coming """'""
with Wings towards me. So he came directly to
me, and said, Mercy, what aileth thee ? Now when
he had heard me make my complaint, he said, Peace
be to thee. He also wiped mine eye3 with his
Handkerchief, and clad me in Silver and Gold: he
put a Chain about my Neck, and Ear-rings in mine
Ears, and a beautiful Crown upon my Head. Then
he took me by the Hard, and said Mercy, come
after me. So he went up, and 1 followed, till we
came at a Golden Gate. Then he knocked; and
when they within had opened, the man went in, and
I followed hira up to a Throne, upon which one
sat, and he said to me. Welcome Danghler. The
place looked bright and twinKling like the Stars, or
rather like the Sun, and I thought that I saw your
Husband there. So I awoke from my Dream. But
did I laugh?

Chris. Laugh: ay, and well you might, to see
yourself so well. For you must give me leave to
tell you, that I believe it was a good Dream, and
that as ypu have begun to find the first part true,
so you shall find the second at last God speaks
once, yea twice, yet man perceivetk it not. In a
Dream, in a Vision of the night, when deep sleep
falleth upon men. in shimbring upon the bed. We
need not, when a-bed, lie awake to talk with God.

230

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Meicy

glad af htt
dream

They stay
here some
time

Prudence

desires id

caiechise

Chris-

tiaria'fl

chiJdreu

/ajnes
oilechised

He can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then
to hear his voice. Our heart oft-times wakes when
we sleep; and God can speak to that, either by
words, by Proverbs, by Signs and Similitudes, as
well as if one was awake.

Mehcy. Well, I am glad of my Dream, for 1 hope
ere long to see it fulfilled, to the making of me
laugh again,

Chh!s. I think it is now high time to rise, and to
know what we must do.

Mercy, Pray, if they invite us to stay a while,
let us willingly accept of the proffer. I am the
■willinger to stay a while here, to grow better ac-
quainted with these Maids. Methinks Prudence
Piety and Charity have very comely and sober
GOimtenances,

Chris. We shall see what they will do. So when
they were up and ready, they came down. And
they asked one another of their rest, and if it was
comfortable or not,

Mercy, Very good, said Mercy; it was one
of the best night's Lodging that ever I had in
my life.

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be
persuaded to stay here a while, you shall have what
the house will afford.

Chas. Ay, and that with a very good will, said
Charily. So they consented, and stayed there about
a month or above, and became very profitable one
to another. And because Prudence would see how
Christiana had brought up her Children, she asked
leave of her to catechise them. So she gave her
free consent. Then she began at tlie youngest,
whose name was James,

Prudence. And she said. Come James, canst thou
tell who made thee?

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God
the Holy Ghost.

Phud. Good Boy, And canst thou tell me who
saves thee?

PILGRIU'S PROGRESS

231

cstecbiied

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God
the Holy Ghost.

Prud, Good Boy still. But how doth God the
Father save thee?

James. By his Grace.

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee?

James. By his Righteousness, Death, and Blood,
and Life.

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save
thee?

James. By his Illumination, hy his Renovation,
and by his Preservation.

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to
be commended for thus bringing up your Childreti.
I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions,
since the youngest of them can answer them so
well. I will therefore now apply myself to the
youngest next.

Prud. Then she said, Come Joseph (for his name Joseph
was Joseph) will you let me catechise you?

Joseph. With all my heart.

Prud. What is Man?

Joseph. A Reasonable Creature, so made by God,
as my Brother said.

Prud. What is supposed by this word savedT

Joseph. That Man by Sin has brought himself
into a state of Captivity and Misery.

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by
the Trinity?

Joseph. That Sin is so great and mighty a Tyrant,
that none can pull us out of its clutches but God;
and that God is so good and loving to man, as to
pull him indeed out of this miserable state.

Prxid. What is God's design in saving of poor
Men?

Joseph. The glorifying of his Name, of his Grace
and Justice, &c. and the everlasting Happiness of
his Creature.

Prud. Who are they that must be saved.

Joseph. Those that accept of his Salvation.

PILGRIMS PROGRESS

Samiiel
CateeluMd

Italthciv
cucchixd

Pbod. Good Boy, Joseph, thy Mother has taught
thee well, and thou hast hearkened to what she hath
said unto thee.

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the
eldest but one,

PsuD. Come Samuel, are you willing that I should
catechise you also?

Samuei- Yes, forsooth, if you please,

Peud. Wliat is Heaven?

Sam. a place and state most blessed, becatfsi}
God dwclleth there.

Prud. What is Hell?

Sam. a place and state most woful, because it is
the dwelling place of Sin, the Devil, and Death,

Peud. Why wouldst ihou go to Heaven ?

Sam. That I may sec God, and serve him without
weariness; that I may see Christ, and love him
everlastingly: that I may have that fulness of the
Holy Spirit in me that I can by no means here
enjoy.

pKUD. A very good Boy also, and one that has
learned well,

Tiien she addressed herself to the eldest, whose
name was Matthew; and she said to him, QooK
Mattke-M. shall 1 also catechise you?

Matthew. With a very good wiU.

Prito. I ask then, if there was ever anything that
had a being antecedent to or before God,

Matt. No, for God is eternal, nor is there any-
tuing excepting himself that had a being until the
beginning of the first day. For in six dcys the
Lord made Heaven and Earth, the Sea and oil thai
in them ts.

Pb0d. What do yon think of the Bible?

Matt. It is the Holy Word of God

Pecd, Is there nothing written therein but wbit
you understand?

Matt. Yes a great deal.

Paul). What do you do when you meet with such
places therein that you do not understand?

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

233

I

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also
that he will please to let me know all therein that
he knows will he for iny good.

Phcd. How believe you as touching the ResM-
rection of the Dead?

Matt. I believe they shall rise, the same that
■was buried, the same in nature, tho' not in cor-
ruption. And I believe this upon a double account.
First, because God has promised it. Secondly, be-
cause he is able to perform it.

Then said Prudence to the Boys, You must still Prudence's
hearken to your Mother, for she can learn you up"n"be'^
more. You must also diligently give ear to what ciurfiising
good talk you shall hear from others, for for your "* "« *«^"
sakes do they speak good things, Observe also and
that with carefulness, what the Heavens and the
Earth do teach you; but especially be much in the
meditation of that Book that was the cause of your
Father's becoming a Pilgrim. I for my part, my
Children, will teach you what I can while you are
here, and shall be glad if you will ask me Questions
that tend to godly edifying.

Now by that these Pilgrims had been at this place Mercy
a week, Mercy had a. visitor that pretended some g^'thMrt
good will unto her, and his name was Mr Brisk.
A man of some breeding, and that pretended to
Religion, but a man that stuck very dose to the
World. So he came once or twice or more to
Mercy, and offered love imto her. Now Mercy
was of fair countenance, and therefore *he more
alluring.

Her mind also was, to be always busying of her- Mercj--*
self in doing, for when she had nothing to do for "^^'
herself, she would be making of Hose and Gar-
ments for others, and would bestow them upon them
that had need. And Mr Brisk not knowing where
or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be
greatly taken for that he found her never idle. I
will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to
himself.

IN

PTLGRIM'S PROGRESS

Talk
betwiit

Ittity Mercy then revealed the business to the Maidens

inquicM of tj,2( ^-ere of the hoase, and enquired of them con-
eonccrainB ceming him. for they did know him better than she.
Mr Briak go they told her that he v/as a very busy young man,
and one that pretended to Religion, but was as
they feared, a stranger to the Power of that which
was good.

Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more
on hira, for I purpose never to have a dog to my
soul.

Prudence then replied. That there needed no great
matter of discouragement to be given to him, her
continuing so as she had began to do for the
poor, would quickly cool his courage.
So the next time he comes, he finds her at her
M^T^and "''1 work, a making of things for the poor. Then
Mr Brisk said he, What always at it ? Yes, said she. either
for myself or for others. And what canst thou
earn a day? quoth he. I do these things, said she,
thai I may be rich in Good Works, laying up in
store a good Foundation against the time to come,
thai I may lay hold on Eternal Life, Why prithee
what dost thou with themF said he, Qoath the
naked, said she. With that his countenance fell.
So he forbore to come at her again. And when be
was asked the reason why, he said that Mercy was
a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions.

When he had left her. Prudence said, Did I not
tell thee, that Mr Brisk would soon forsake thee?
yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee ; for not-
withstanding his pretence to Religion, and his seem-
ing love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of tempers
so different, that I believe they will never come
together.

Mercv. I im'ght a had Husbands afore now, tho'
I spake not of it to any ; but they were such as did
not like my Conditions, though never did any of
them find fault with my Person. So they and I
could not agree.
Frud. Mercy in our days is little set by any

He tor-
>akes her.

and why

Mircy

tube
practice
of mercy
rejected:
while
Mercy \a
the Bane
of mercy
bUked

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

further than as to its Name; the Practice, which
is set forth by thy Conditions, there arc but few
that can abide.

MEEcy. Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me,
I will die a Maid, or my Conditions shall be to me
as a Husband. For I cannot change ray nature, and
to have one that lies cross to me in this, that I
purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I had
a Sister named Bountiful, that was married to one
of these churls; but he and she could never agree;
but because my Sister was resolved to do as she had
began, that is, to shew kindness to the poor, there-
fore her Husband first cried her down at the Cross,'
and then turned her out of his doors.

Pkud. And yet he was a Professor, I warrant
you.

Mercy. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such
as he. the world is now full; but I am for none of
them at all.

Now Matthew the eldest Son of Christiana fell
sick, and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was
much pained in his Bowels, so that he was with it
at times, pulled as 'twere both ends together. There
dwelt also not far from thence, one Mr SkiU, an
antient and well-approved Physician. So Christiana
desired it, and they sent for him, and he came.
When he was entred the room, and had a little ob-
served the Boy, he concluded that he was sick of
the Gripes. Then he said to his Mother, Wliat diet
has Matthew of late fed upon? Diet, said Chris-
tiana, nothing but that which is wholesome. The
Physician answered. This Boy has been tampering
with something that lies in his maw undigested, and
that will not away without means. And I tell
you he must be purged, or else he will die.

Sam. Then said Samuel, Mother, Mother, what
was that which my Brother did gather up and eat,
so soon as we were come from the Gate that is at

Mcrcy'fi

How
Mercy's
staler was
served
by her
husband

Matthew
(alls Eick

Gripes ot
Gonacience

The

physician's

judgmcat

'Gave notice that be would not be reapoosible for debtt coatraoted
by hi! wile.

t36

Stinnel
puu bis
mother
in miad
of the
f nil I h IB
breiber

dideu

Potion
prtpircd

The Lstio
I boirair

The hoy

leitb 10
take the
phTrick

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

the head of this way, You know that there was an
Orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the
wall, some of the trees hung over the wall, and my
Brother did plash and did eat.

Chris. True my Child, said Christiana, he did
take thereof and did eat, naughty Boy as he was, I
did chide him, and yet he would eat thereof.

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was
not wholesome food, and that food, to wit, that
Fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. It is the
Fruit of Beelzebub's Orchard. I do marvel that
none did warn you of it ; many have died thereof.

Chris. Then Christiana began to cry, and she
said, O naughty Boy, and O careless Mother, what
shall I do for my Son ?

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected; the
Boy may do well again, but he must purge and vomit.

Chris, Pray Sir, try the utmost of your skill with
him whatever it costs.

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So
he made him a Purge, but it was too weak. 'Twas
said it was made of the Blood of a Goat, the Ashes
of a Heifer, and with some of the Juice of Hyssop,
&c. When Mr Skill had seen that that Purge was
too weak, he made him one to the purpose, 'twas
made Ex Came & Sanguine Christi. (You know
Physicians give strange Medicines to their Patients.)
And it was made up into Pills, with a Promise or
two, and a proportionable quantity of SalL Now
he was to take them three at a time fasting, in half
a quarter of a pint of the Tears of Repentance.
When this Potion was prepared and brought to the
Boy he was loth to take it, tho' torn with the
Gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come,
come, said the Physician, you must take it. It goes
against my stomach, said the Boy. I must have
you take it, said his Mother. I shall vomit tt up
again, said the Boy. Pray Sir, said Christiana to
Mr SkiU, how docs it taste? It has no ill uste,
said the Doctor, and with that she touched one of

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

237

I

Pills with the tip of her tongue. Oh Mattkeiv,
said she, this Potion is sweeter than Hony, If
thou lovest thy Mother, if thou lovest thy Brothers,
if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy Life, take
it. So with much ado, after a short prayer for
the blessing of God upon it, he took tt, and it
wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge,
it caused him to sleep and rest quietly, it put him
into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite
rid him of his Gripes.

So in little time he got up and walked about with
a staff, and would go from room to room, and talk
with Prudence Piety and Charity of his Distemper,
and how he was healed.

So when the Boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr
Skill, saying Sir, what wit! content you for your
pains and care to and of my Child? And he
said, You must pay the Master of the College of
Physicians, according to rules made in that case
and provided.

Chris. But Sir, said she, what is this Pill good
for else ?

Skill, It is a universal Pill, it is good against all
the diseases that Pilgrims are incident to, and when
it is well prepared, U will keep good time out of
mind.

Chbis. Pray Sir, make me up twelve boxes of
them, for if I can get these, I will never take Other
Physicfc.

Skili,. These Pills are good to prevent diseases,
as well as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare
say it, and stand to it, that if a man will but use
this Physick as he should, it will make him live
for ever. But good Christiana, thou must give
these Pills no other way but as 1 have prescribed,
for if you do, they will do no good. So he gave
unto Christiana Physicfc for herself and her Boys
and for Mercy, and bid Matthetv take heed how he
eat any more greeo Plums, and kissed them and
went his way.

The
mother
usies It,
and per-
suades Mm

A word of
God io Iht
hand of
his iailh

This pit] an
UTiiversal

In a glass
Dt the
tears of
repentance

isa

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

OmbjOA

Of the
eReeuuf

Of fire and
■f tbe SUB

Of the
ctooda

Oftlle

rainbow

It was totd you before that Prudence lad the
Boys, that if at any time they would, they should
ask her some Questions that might be profitable, and
she would say something to them.

Matt. Then Matthew who had been sick, asked
her. Why for the most part Pkysick should be bitter
to our palates?

Prud. To shew how unwelcome the Word of
God and the effects thereof are to a Carnal Heart.

Matt, Why does Physick, if it does good, purge,
and cause that we vomit?

Prud. To shew that the Word, when it works ef-
fectually, cleanseth the Heart and Mind. For look,
what the one doth to the Body the other doth to
the Soul.

Matt. What should we learn by seeing the Flame
of our Fire go upwards ? and by seeing the Beams
and sweet Influences of the Sun strike downwards?

Prud. By the going up of the Fire we are taught
to ascend to Heaven by fervent and hot desires ; and
by the Sun his sending his Heat Beams and swe^
Influences downwards, we are taught that the Sav-
iour of the world, tho' high, reaches down with his
Grace and Love to us below.

Matt. Where have the Clouds their water?

PRtnj. Out of the Sea.

Matt. What may we learn from that ?

Prih). That Ministers should fetch their Doctrine
from God.

Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the
Earth?

Prud, To shew that Ministers should give out
what they know of God to the World.

Matt. Why is the Rainbow caused by the Sun?

Prud. To shew that the covenant of God's Grace
is confirmed to us in Christ,

Matt. Why do the Springs come from the Sea
to us through the Earth ?

Prud. To shew that the Grace of God comes to oa
Hirough the Bod^r of CbrisL

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

»B

i

Matt. Why do some of the Springs riae out of OEthe
the tops of high Hills? =?"""

Prud, To shew that the Spirit of Grace shall
spring' up in some that are Great and Mighty, as
well as in many that are Poor and Low.

Matt. Why doth the Fire fasten upon the Candle- oi the
wick? '^''"""

Prih). To shew that unless Grace doth kindle
upon the Heart, there wil! be no true Light of
Life in us.

Matt. Why is the Wick and Tallow and all,
spent to maintain the light of the Candle?

Prud. To shew that Body and Soul and all,
should be at the service of, and spend themselves
to maintain in good condition, that Grace of God
that is in us.

Matt. Why doth the Pelican pierce her own Of the
Breast with her Bill ? ^'^''^

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her Blood,
and thereby to shew that Christ the blessed so loved
his young, his people, as to save them from Death
by his Blood.

Matt. What may one learn by hearing the Cock ^^°
to crow?

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's
repentance. The Cock's crowing shew? also that
Day is coming on; let then the crowing of the
Cock put thee in mind of that last and terrible
Day of Judgment.

Now about this time their month was out, where- The weit
fore they signified to those of the house that 'twas "^^^'°^'
convenient for them to up and be going. Then thcsirong
said Joseph to his Mother, It is convenient that you '" prayers
forget not to send to the house of Mr Interpreter,
to pray him to grant that Mr Great-heart should
be sent unto us, that he may be our Conductor the
rest of our way. Good Boy, said she, I had almost
forgot. So she drew up a Petition, and prayed ]\Ir
Watchful the Porter to send it by some fit man to
faer good Friend Mr Interpreter; who when it was

MO

PILGRISrS PROGRESS

Tb»r pro-
vide to be
Bone on
Itadr wall

Etc** apple

AsiEbtof

Bmaiiag

Jacob'!
ladder

A ^ght of
Christ is
taViog

Golden
■nebor

Of Abra-
ham offer-
fag up
loue

come, and he had seen the contents of the Petition,
said lo the Messenger, Go tell them that I will send
him.

When the Family where Christiana was, saw that
they had a purpose to go forward, they called the
whole house together, to give thanks to their King
for sending of them such profitable Guests as these.
Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall we
not shew thee something, according as our custom is
to do to Pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate
when thou art upon the way? So they took Chris-
liana her Children and Mercy, into the closet, and
shewed them one of the Apples thai Eve did eat
of, and that she also did give lo her Husband, and
that for the eating of which they both were turned
out of Paradise, and asked her what she thought that
was? Then Christiana said, 'Tts Food or Poison,
I know not which. So they opened the matter to
her, and she held up her hands and wondered.

Then they had her to a place, and shewed her
Jacob's Ladder. Now at that time there were some
Angels ascending upon it So Christiana looked
and looked, lo see the Angels go up, and so did the
rest of the Company. Then they were going in to
another place to shew them something else, but
James said to his Mother, Pray bid them stay here
a little longer, for this is a curious sight. So they
turned again, and stood feeding their eyes with
this so pleasant a prospect. After this they had thera
into a place where did hang up a Golden Anchor, so
they bid Christiana take it down. For, said they, you
shall have it with you, for 'tis of absolute necessity
that you should^ that you may lay hold of that within
the vail, and stand steadfast, in case you should
meet with turbulent weather. So they were glad
thereof. Then they took them, and had them to the
Mount upon which Abraham our Father had of-
fered up Isaac his Son, and shewed them the Altar,
the Wood, the Fire, and the Knife, for they remain
to be seen to this very ^y- Wben they had seen

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Ml

I

it, they held up their hands and blest themselves,
and said, Oh what a man for love to his Master,
and for denial to himself was Abraham. After they
had shewed them all these things, Prudence took
them into the Dining-room, where stood a pair of
excellent Virginals, so she played upon them, and Pm- _
turned what she had shewed them into this excellent ^""r^ais
song, saying,

Evt's Apple we have shew'd yon.

Of that be yon aware;
You have seen Jacob's Ladder too.

Upon which Angeis are.
An Anchor you received have.

But let not these suffice.
Until with Air'am you have gave

Your btst a Sacri&ce.

Now about this time, one knocked at the door; ^^ Gre«t-
so the Porter opened, and behold Mr Great-heart agsin ""
was there; but when he was come in, what joy was
there? For it came now fresh again into their
minds, how hut a while ago he had slain old Cntw
Bloody-man the Giant, and delivered them from
the Lions.

Then said Mr Great-heart to Christiana and to He brings
Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a Bottle of * ,om his
Wine, and also some parched Com, together with Lord _
a couple of Pomgranates. He has also sent the Boys "**'' '^"
some Figs and Raisins to refresh you on your way.

Then they addressed themselves to their Journey,
and Prudence and Piety went along with them.
When they came at the gate, Christiana asked the
Porter if any of late went by? He said. No, only
one some time since, who also told me that of late
there had been a great robbery committed on the Kobbeiy
King's Highway, as you go; but he saith the thieves
are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives.
Then Christiana and Mercy were afraid, but Mat-
thew said. Mother fear nothing, as long as Mr
Creal-heart is to go with us and to be our Conductor.

Then said Ch-isiiana to the Porter, Sir, I am

Ml

PtLGRUTS PROGRESS

Tie

Porter*!

ChriMiana iDach obliged to yoo for an the kindnesses that you
j^^^" have shewed me since I came hither, and also for
tkpomr that you have been so loving and kind to raj
Children. I know not how to gratify your kind-
ness. Wherefore pray as a token of my respects to
you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold
Angel in his hand, and he made ber a low obeisance,
and said, Let thy Garments be always white, and let
thy Head want no Ointment Let Mercy live and
not die, and let not her works be few. And to
the Boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and fol-
low after Godliness with them that are grave and
wise, so shall you put gladness into your Mother's
heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded.
So they thanked the Porter and departed.

Now I saw in my Dream that they went forward
until ihey were come to the brow of the Hill, where
Piety bethinking herself, cried out, Alas I I have for-
got what I intended to bestow upon Christiana and
ber Companions, I will go back and fetch it. So she
ran and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana
thought she heard in a Grove a little way off on the
right hand, a most curious, melodious note, with
vords much like these,

Thraugh sll my Life thjr Favour is

So fraokly Bhew'd to me.
That in tbj House (or evermore

My dwelliag-place shall be.

And listening still she thought she heard another
answer it, sayiag,

For why? The Lord our God is good.

His Mercy is for ever aute ;
His Truth at all times firmly stood.

And aball from s<e to age endure^

So Christiana asked Prudence what 'twas that
made those curious notes? They are, said she, our
Country Birds; they sing these notes but seldom,
except it be at the Spring, when the Flowers appear,
and the Sun shines warm, and then you may hear

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

243

fHem all day long. I o^ten, said she, go out to hear
them, we also oft-times keep them tame in our house.
They are very fine company for us when we are
melancholy, also they make the Woods and Groves
and Solitary places, places desirous to be in.

By this time Piety was come again ; so she said
to Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a
scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at
our house, upon which thou niayest look when thou
findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again
to remembrance for thy edification and comfort.

Now they began to go down the Hill into the
Valley of Humiliation. It was a steep Hill, and
the way was slippery ; but they were very careful,
so they got down pretty well. When they were
down in the Valley, Piety said to Christiana, This is
the place where Christian your Husband met with
that fold Fiend Apollyon, and where they had that
Fight that they had; I know you cannot bat have
heard thereof. But be of good courage; as long
you have here Mr Greal-hearl to be your Guide
and Conductor, we hope you will fare the better.
So when these two had committed the Pilgrims unto
the conduct of their Guide, he went forward and
they went after.

Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, we need
not to be so afraid of this Valley, for here is_ noth-
ing to hurt us unless we procure it to ourselves,
Tis true. Christian did here meet with Apollyon,
with whom he also had a sore Combat ; but that fray
was the fniit of those slips that he got in his going
down the Hill; for they that get slips there, must
look for combats here. And hence it is that this
Valley has got so hard a name; for the common
people when they hear that some frightful thing
has befallen such a one in such a place, are of an
opinion that that place is haunted with some foul
Fiend or evil Spirit; when alas it is for the fruit
of their doing, that such things do befall them there.

This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful

bcsloweth

on Ihcm
at pariiog

First Pari,
p. 60

Mr Grul-

heart at
ihc Vallty
of Hu-
miliation

First Part,
p. 6t

)□<> why

wu lO
buct bete

ApUlir
witb an
inscriptiotl
on it

Thb

valient

brare

place

Ueo tbiivc
in the VsL-
Ity of Hu-
miliation

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

a place as any the Crow flies over; and I am per>
suaded if we could hit upon it, we might find some-
where hereabouts, something that might give us an
account why Christian was so hardly beset in this
place.

Then James said to his Mother, Lo, yonder stands
a Pillar, and it looks as il something was written
thereon, let us go and see what it is. So they went,
and found there written. Let Christian's slips be-
fore he came hilheT, and the Battles that he met jwift
in this place, be a loaming to those that come after.
Lo, said their Guide, did not I tell you that there
was something hereabouts that would give intima-
tion of the reason why Christian was so hard beset
in this place? Then turning himself to Christiana,
he said. No disparagement to Christian more than
to many others whose hap and lot his was ; for 'lis
easier going up than dotvn this Hill, and that can
be said but of few Hills in all these parts of the
world. But we will leave the good man, he is
at rest, he also had a brave Victory over his Enemy,
let him grant that dwelleth above, that we fare no
worse when we come to be tried than he.

But we will come again to this Valley of Humili-
ation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of
ground in all those parts. It is fat ground, and as
you see, consisteth much in meadows; and if a man
was to come here in the Summer-time, as we do
now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and
if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes,
he might see that that would be delightful to him.
Behold how green this Valley is, also how beautified
with Lillics. I have also known many labouring
men that have got good estates in this Valley of
Humilialion (for God resisteth the Proud, but gives
more Grace to the Humble) for indeed it is a
very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfnls.
Some also have wished that the next way to their
Father's house were here, that they might be
troubled no more widi either Hills or Mountains,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Z15

Phil. IT.

Heb. xiii. 5

to go over; but the way is the way, and there's an
end.

Now as they were going along and talking, they
espied a Boy feeding bis Father's Sheep. The Boy
was in very mean cloaths, but of a very fresh and
well-favoured countenance, and as he sate by him-
self, he sung, Hark, said Mr Great-heart, to what
the Shepherd's Boy saith. So they hearkened, and
fae said,

He that 13 down needs fear no fall.

He that is low no pride;
He tliat Is humble, ever shall
Have God to be his Guide.
I am content witb what I have,

Little be it, or much :
And Lord, contentment still I crav^

Because Ihou eavest such.
Fulness to such a burden is

That go "n Pilgrimage;
Here little, and hereafter Bliss,
Is best from age to age.

Then said their Guide, Do you hear him? I
will dare to say, that this Boy lives a merrier life,
and wears more of that Herb called Heart's-ease
in his bosom, than he that is clad in Silk and Velvet;
but we will proceed in our discourse.

In this Valley our Lord formerly had his Country-
house; he loved much to be here; he loved also
to walk these Meadows, for he found the air was Christ,
pleasant. Besides here a man shall be free from J^^'fl't
the noise, and from the hurryings of this life. All had his '
states are full of Noise and Confusion, only the country-
Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary intbeVai-
place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindred ity of Hu-
in his Contemplation, as in other places he is apt to ™''''"™
be. This is a Valley that nobody walks in, but
those that love a Pilgrim's life. And tho' Chris-
tian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon,
and to enter with him a brisk encounter, yet I must
tell you, that in former times men have met with
Angels here, have found Pearls here, and have in
this place foimd the words of Life.

SM

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Forgetful
GrccD

ilmnilitji
grace

Did I say our Lord had here in former days
his Country-house, and that he loved here to walk^
I will add, in this piace. and to the people that live
and trace these Grounds, he has left a yearly rev-
enue to be faithfully payed them at certain seasons,
for their maintenance by the way, and for their
further encouragement to go on in their Pilgrimage.

Samuel. Now as they went on, Samuel said to
Mr. Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this Valley
my Father and Apotlyon had their Battle, but where-
about was the Fight, for I perceive this Valley is
large?

Great-heaet. Your Father had that Battle with
Apoltyon at a plac^ yonder before us, in a narrow
passage just beyond Forgetful Green. And indeed
that place is the most dangerous place in all these
parts. For if at any time the Pilgrims meet with
any brunt, it is when they forget what favours they
have received, and how unworthy tliey are of them.
This is the place also where others have been hard
put to it; but more of the place when we are come
lo it; for I persuade myself that to this day there
remains either some sign of the Battle, or some
Monument to testify that such a Battle there was
fought

Mercv. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in
this Valley as I have been anywhere else in all our
Journey, the place methinks suits with my spirit
I love to be in such places where there is no rattling
with Coaches, nor rumbling with Wheels. Me-
thinks here one may without much molestation, be
thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has
done, and to what the King has called him. Here
one may think, and break at heart, and melt in one's
spirit, until one's eyes become like the Pishpools of
Heshbon. They that go rightly through this Valley
of Baca make it a Well, the Rain that God sends
down from Heaven upon them that are here also
filJeth the Pools. This Valley is that from whence
also the King will give to their vineyards, and they

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

247

that go through it shall sing, as Christian did for

»al! he met with Apollyon.
Great-heakt. 'Tis true, said their Guide, I have

gone through this Valley many a time, and never was
^H better than when here.
^P I have also been a Conduct to several Pilgrims,

atid they have confessed the same, To this man wiU

7 look, saith the King, even to him that is Poor, and
i^ of a Contrite Spirit, and that trembles at my Word.
^V Now they were come to the place where the afore

mentioned Battle was fought. Then said the Guide

■ to Christiana her Children and Mercy, This is the
place, on this ground Christian stood, and up there
came Apollyon against him. And look, did not I tell
you? Here is some of your Husband's Blood upon
these stones to this day; behold also how here and
I there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the
^ft shivers of Apollyon's broken Darts. See also how
H they did beat the ground with their feet as they
fought, to make good their places against each other,

khow also with their by-blows they did spht the very
stones in pieces. Verily Christian did here play
the man, and shewed himself as stout, as could, had
he been there, even Hercules himself. When Apol-
lyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next
Valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of

■ Death, unto which we shall come anon.
Lo yonder also stands a Monument, on which is
engraven this Battle, and Christian's Victory, to

Pliis fame throughout all ages. So because it stood
just on the way-side before them, they stept to it
and read the writing, which word for word was
this.

Hard by here was a Battle foug'i'i
Most strange, and yet most true;
ChriiticH and Apollyon BOuglit

Each other to aubdue.
The Man so bravely play'd the Man,

He made the Fiend to fly;
Of which a MoQument I stand.

The stmt to testify.

An fixpcri-
mtet ol it

The platp
where
Christian
and the
fiend did
fight.

Some BiBti*
of (he
battle
remaSn

A naaa-
ment of
the battle

A monu-
ment of
Chri?ti3ii'f
vieiory

M

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS -

FitttPitt,
p. 65

beard

Tlie

KTDund

■halici

Jima lick

with (car

ThcGcnd

appears

The

PiJetiini
arc atrud

When thcy had passed by this place, they came
upon the borders of the Shadow of Death; and
Ihis Vailey was longer than ihe other; a place also
most strangely haunted with evil things, as many
are able to testify. But these Women and Children
went the belter through it because they had day-
light, and because Mr Great-heart was their Con-
ductor.

When they were entred upon this Valley, they
thought that they heard a groaning as of dead men.
a very great groaning. They thought also they did
hear words of Lamentation spoken, as of some
in extreme Torment. These things made the Boys
to quake, the Women also looked pale and wan;
but their Guide bid them be of good comfort.

So they went on a little further, and they thought
that they felt the ground begin to shake under
them, as if some hollow place was there; they heard
also a kind of hissing as of Serpents, but nothing
as yet appeared. Then said the Boys, Are we not
yet at ihe end of this doleful place? But the Guide
also bid them be of good courage, and look well to
their feet, lest haply, said he, you be taken in some
Snare,

Now James began to be sick, but I think the
cause thereof was fear; so his Mother gave him
some of that glass of Spirits that she had given her
at the Interpreter's house, and three of the Pills that
Mr Skill had prepared, and the Boy began to revive.
Thus they went on till they came to about the mid-
dle of the Valley, and then Christiana said, Methinks
I see something yonder upon the road before us, a
thing of such a shape such as I have not seen.
Then said Joseph, Mother, what is it? An ugly
thing, Child, an ugly thing, said she. But Mother,
what is it like ? said he. "lis like I cannot tell what,
said she. And now it was but a little way off.
Then said she. It is nigh.

Well, well, said Mr Great-heart, Let them that are
most afraid keep dose to me. So the Fiend came

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

249

(

I

ind the Conductor met it; but when it was Just
come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then
remcmbred they what had been said some time
ago, Resist the Devi!, and he will fly from you.

They went therefore on, as being a little re-
freshed ; but they had not gone far, before Mercy
looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something
most like a Lion, and it came a great padding pace
after; and it had a hollow Voice of Roaring, and
at every Roar that it gave it made all the Valley
echo, and their hearts to ake, save the heart of him
that was their Guide. So it came up, and Mr Great~
heart went behind, and put the Pilgrims all before
him. The Lion also came on apace, and Mr Great-
heart addressed himself to give him Battle. But
when he saw that it was determined that resistance
should be made, he also drew back and came no
further.

Then they went on again, and their Conductor
did go before them, till they came at a place where
was cast up a Pit the whole breadth of the way, and
before they could be prepared to go over that, a
great Mist and a Darkness fell upon them, so that
they could not see. Then said the Pilgrims, Alas!
now what shall we do? But their Guide made an-
swer. Fear not, stand still and see wliat an end will
be put to this also. So they stayed there because
their path was raarr'd. They then also thought that
they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing
of the Enemies, the fire also and the smoke of the
Pit was much easier to be discerned. Then said
Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what ray poor Hus-
band went through, I have heard much of this place,
but I never was here afore now. Poor man, he
went here all alone in the night; he had night al-
most quite through the way ; also these Fiends were
busy about him as if they would have torn him in
pieces. Many have spoke of it, but none can tell
what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should
mean, until they come in it themselves. The heart

Greit-

tbfm

A Una

A pit snd
darkneu

Cbristiuu

oow know!
uhaC her
buiband
frit

250

PILGRIM'S PHOGBESS

Gnat-

hearl'i

Tbtr pray

Jnc of

[he bojs'
reply

Heedless J9

stain, and
Talit-heed
pioervcd

knowi Us own Bitiemess, and a stranger iuUrmed*
dleth not ttrilk its Joy. To be here is a fearful thing.

Great-heart. This is like doing business in great
Waters, or like going down into the deep: this is
like being in the heart of the Sea, and like going
down to the bottoms of the Mountains ; now it seems
as if the Earth with its bars were about us for
ever. But let them that walk in Darkness and
have no Light, trust in the name of the Lord, and
Stay upon their God. For my part, as I have told
yoti already. I have gone often through this Valley,
and have been much harder put to it than now I
am, and yet you see I am alive, I would not boast,
for that I am not mine own saviour, but I trust we
shall have a good Deliverance. Come let us pray for
Light to him that can lighten our Darkness, and
that can rebuke not only these, btit all the Satans
in Hell.

So they cried and prayed, and God sent Light and
Deliverance, for there was now no let in their way,
no not there where but now they were stopt with
a Pit. Yet they were not got through the Valley:
so they went on still, and behold great stinks and
loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them.
Then said Mercy to Christiana, There is not such
pleasant being here as at the Gate, or at the Inter-
preter's, or at the house where we lay last.

Oh but, said one of the Boys, it is not so had
to go through here as it is to abide here always,
and for ought I know, one reason why we must go
this way to the house prepared for us, is, that our
home might be made the sweeter to us.

Well said Samuel, quoth the Guide, thou hast now
spoke like a man. Why, if ever I get out here
again, said the Boy, I think I shall prize light and
good way better than ever I did in all my life,
Then said the Guide, We shall be out by and by.

So on they went, and Joseph said. Cannot we
see to the end of this Valley as yet? Then said
the Guide, Look to your feet, for you shall presenlJy

I
I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

351

among the Snares. So they looked to their
feet and went on, but they were troubled much
with the Snares. Now when they were come among
the Snares, they espied a man cast into the Ditch on
the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then
said the Guide. That is ons Heedless, that was a going
this way, he has lain there a great while. There

■ was one Take-heed with him when he was taken
and slain, but he escaped their hands, You cannot
imagine how many are killed hereabouts, and yet
men are so foolishly venturous, as to set out lightly
on Pilgrimage, and to come without a Guide. Poor
Christian, it was a wonder that he here escaped; First p»rt
but he was beloved of his God, also he had a good ^- '"
heart oi his own, or else he could never a done it.
Now they drew towards the end of the way, and
just there where Christian had seen the Cave when
he went by, out thence came forth Maul a Giant. Maul, a
This Maul did use to spoil young Pilgrims with ^""^
Sophistry ; and he called Great-heart by his name,
and said unto him, How many times have you been
forbidden to do these things? Then said Mr Great-
heart, What things? What things? quoth the Giant,
■ you know what things, but I will put an end to
your trade. But pray, said Mr Great-heart, before
we fall to it, let us imderstand wherefore we must HcquiK-
fight. Now the Women and Children stood trem- '^ll^'^
bling, and knew not what to do. Quoth the Giant, bean
You rob the Country, and rob it witli the worst
of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr Great-
heart, come to particulars, man.
^B Then said the Giant, Thou practisest the craft Cod's
^ of a Kidnapper, thou gatherest up Women and ™'^^'""
Children, and carriest them into a strange Country, as kid-
to the weakening of my master's Kingdom. But nappers
now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the
God of Heaven, my business is to persuade sinners
to repentance, I am commanded to do my endeavour
to turn Men Women and Children, from darkness
"jht, and from the power of Satan to God; and

2S2

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

The giant
and Mr
r.rcal-
heart
mutt fight

Weak

prayers do
sometimes
help BlTuns
lolks" cries

Thea&nt

struck
down

Bel*

slain, erd
fall head
diipused of

if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us
fail to it as soon as thou wiJL

Then the Giant came up, and Mr Great-heart
went to meet him; and as he went he drew his
Sword, but ihe Giant had a Club. So without more
ado they feli to it, and at the first blow the Giant
stroke Mr Great-heart down upon one of his knees;
with that the Women and Children cried out; so
Mr Great-heart recovering himself, laid about him
in full lusty manner, and gave the Giant a wound in
his arm; thus he fought for the space of an hour
to that height of heat, that the breath came out of
the Giant's nostrils, as the heat doth out of a boiling
Caldron.

Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr Great-
heart betook him to prayer; also the Women and
Children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time
that the Battle did last.

Wlien they had rested them, and taken breath.
they both fell lo it again, and Mr Great-heart with
a full blow fetched the Giant down to the ground.
Nay hold and let me recover, quoth he. So Mr
Great-heart fairly let him get up. So to it they
went again, and the Giant missed but Httle of all
to breaking Mr Great-heart's skull with his Club.

Mr Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the
full heat of his spirit, and pjerceth him under the
fifth rib; with that the Giant began to faint, and
could hold up his Cluh no longer. Then Mr Great-
heart seconded his blow, and smit the head of the
Giant from his shoulders. Then the Women and
Children rejoiced, and Mr Great-heart also praised
God for the deliverance he had wrought.

When this was done, they among them erected
a Pillar, and fastned the Giant's head tliereon,

and wrote underneath
might read.

in letters that Passengers

He that did wear this head, was oas

That Pilgrim? did misuse;
He stopt their waj, he spared nooe^

4

I

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Rut did them all abuse ;
Until that I Creal-hearl arose,

The Pilgrim's Guide to be;
Until that I did him opfiosr
That was their Enemy,

Now I saw that they went to the Ascent that
was a little way off cast up to be a Prospect for
Pilgrims, (that was the place from whence Christian
had the first sight of Faithful his Brother) where-
fore here they sat down and rested, they also here
did eat and drink and make merry, for that they
had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous an
Enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana
asked the Guide if he had caught no hurt in the
Battle. Then said Mr Great-heart, No, save a
little on my flesh; yet that also shall be so tar from
being to my determent, that it is at present a proof
of my love to my Master and you, and shall be a
means by Grace to increase my reward at last.

Chbis. But was you not afraid, good Sir, when
you see him come out with his club?

Gbeat-heaht. It is my duty, said he, to distrust
mine own ability, that I may have reliance on him
that is stronger than all.

CuBis. But what did you think when he fetched
you down to the ground at the first blow?

Great-heart. Why I thought, quoth he, that so
tny Master himself was served, and yet he it was
that conquered at the last.

Matt. When you all have thought what you
please, I think God has been wonderful good unto
MS, both in bringing us out of this Valley, and in
delivering us out of the hand of this Enemy; for
my part I see no reason why we should distrust
our God any more, since he has no-jc/, and in such
a place as this, given us such testimony of his love
as this.

Then they got up and went forward. Now a
little before them stood an Oak, and imder it when
they came to it, they found an old Pilf^im fast

253

P-7I

Discourse
of Ihelielit

Matthew
here
Hdmir^s
goodness

Old Hon-
est asleep
under
anoLk

254

One Mint

fiomednies

another
fur his
cnanj

Talk

between
Greai-
beltt
kodlie

Whence
Ur Hon-

en came

PILGRUI'S PROGBESS

asleep; they knew that he was a Pilgrim by his
Cloalhs and his Staff and his Girdle.

So the Guide Mr Great-heart awaked him, and
the old Gentleman as he lift up his eyes, cried out,
What's the matter? who are you? and what is your
business here?

Gheat-heart, Come man be not so hot, here is
none but Friends : yet the old man gets up and
stands upon his guard, and will know of them what
they were. Then said the Guide, My name is
Great-heart, I am the Guide of these Pilgrims which
are going to the Calestial Country,

Honest. Then said Mr Honest, I cry you mercy,
I fear'd that you had been of the company of those
that some time ago did rob Little-faith of his money;
but now I look better about me, I perceive you arc
hones ter people.

Great-heart. Why what would or could you a
done to a helped yourself, if we indeed had been
of that company?

Hon. Donel why I would a fought as long as
breath had been in me; and had I so done, I am
sure you could never have given me the worst on't;
for a Christian can never be overcome, imless he
shall yield of himself,

Great-hcaht. Well said. Father Honest, quoth
the Guide, for by this I know thou art a cock of
the right kind, for thou hast said the truth.

Hon, And by this also I know that thou knowest
what true Pilgrimage is, for all others do think
that we are the soonest overcome of any.

Great-heart, Well now we are so happily met,
pray let me crave your name, and the name of the
place you came from.

Hon. My name I cannot, but I came from the
Town of Stupidily, it lieth about tour degrees be-
yond the City of Destruction.

Great-heart. Oh! are you that Countryman
then? I deem I have half a guess of you, your
name is Old Honesty, la it not. So the old Gentle-

I

4

I

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

255

man blushed, and said, Not Honesty in the abstract,
but Honest is my name, and I wish that my nature
shall agree to what I am called.

Hon. But Sir, said the old Gentleman, how could
you guess that I am such a man, since I came from
such a place ?

Great-heart. I had heard of you before, by my
Master, for he knows all things that are done on the
Earth; but I have often wondered that any should
come from your place, for your Town is worse than
^Lis the City of Destruction itself.
^P Hon, Yes, we lie more off from the Sun, and so
are more cold and senseless; but was a man in a
Mountain of Ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness
■will arise upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a
thaw; and thus it hath been with me.

Great-heart. I believe, it. Father Honest, I be-
lieve it, for I know the thing is true.

Then the old Gentleman saluted all the Pilgrims
with a holy kiss of chariiy, and asked them of their
^^ names, and how they had fared since they set out
^Bon their Filgrimage.

^B CiiRis. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose

^Byou have heard of, good Clirislian was my Husband,

^^and these four were his Children. But can you

think how the old Gentleman was taken, when she

told them who she was! He skipped, he smiled,

and blessed them with a thousand good wishes,

saying,

I Hon. I have heard much of your Husband, and

^■of his travels and Wars which he underwent in his

^'days. Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of

your Husband rings over ail these parts of the

world: his Faith, his Courage, his Enduring, and

his Sincerity under all, has made his name famous.

Then he turned him to the Boys, and asked them

of their names, which they fold him. And then

said he unto them, Mailhen; be thou like Matthew

the Publican, not in vice but in vertue. Samuel.

said he, be thou like Samuel the Prophet, a man of

Stupefied
onei; ttti:
woTse UiaQ
those
merely
csmol

Old Hon-
est and
Christ jaua
ta!k

He also
talks with
tk boys.

Old Mr
Honest's
blessing
on Ihem

256

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Itiiot

(me Mr

faith and prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou 13te
Joseph in Poliphar's house, chaste, and one that
Hies from temptation. And James be thou like
James the Just and like James the Brother o£ our
Lord.

Hebitu- Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had
«th Mtier [gfj her Town and her Kindred to come along with
Christiana and with her Sons, At that the old
honest man said, Mercy is thy name ? by Mercy
shalt thoi be sustained, and carried through all
those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way,
till thou shalt come thilher where thou shall look
the Fountain of Mercy in the face with comfort.

All this while the Guide Mr Great-heart was very
much pleased, and smiled upon his Companion.

Now as they walked along together, the Guide
asked the old Gentleman if he did not know one
M"r Fearing, that came on Pilgrimage out of his
parts?

Hon. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man
that had the root of the matter in him, but he was
one of the most troublesome Pilgrims that ever I
met with in all my days.

Great-heaht, I perceive you knew him, for you
have given a very right character of him.

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great Companion of
his; 1 was with him most an end; when he first
began to think of what would come upon us here-
after, I was with him.

Great-heart. I was his Guide from my Master's
house to the gates of the Ccelestial City.

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome
one.

Great-heakt. I did so, but I could very well bear
it, for men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted
with the conduct of such as he was.

Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little o£ him,
and how he managed himself under your conduct.

Great-heart. Why, he was always afraid that
fae should come short of >vhither he had a desire

4
4

PILGRUrS PHOGBESS

257

I

to go. Everything ftightncd him that he heard
anybody speak of, that had but the least appearance
of opposition in it. 1 hear that he lay roaring at
the Slough of Dtsfond for above a month together,
nor durst he, for all he saw several go over before
him, venture, tho' they, many of them, offered to
lend him iheir hand. He would not go back again
neither. The Cceleatial City, he said, he should
die if he came not to it, and yet was dejected at
every difficulty, and stumbled at every Straw that
anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain
at the Slough of Dispond a great while, as I have
told you; one Sun-shine morning, I do not know
how, he ventured, and so got over. But when he
was over, he would scarce believe it. He had, I
think, a Slough of Dispond in his mind, a Slough
that he carried everywhere with him, or else he
could never have been as he was. So he came up
to the Gate, you know what I mean, that stands at
the head of this way, and there also he stood a good
while before he would adventure to knock. When
the Gate was opened he would give back, and give
place to others, and say that he was not worthy;
for for all he gat before some to the Gate, yet many
of them went in before hira. There the poor man
would stand shaking and shrinking, I dare say it
would have pitied one's heart to have seen him, nor
■would he go back again. At last he took the Ham-
mer that hanged on the Gate in his hand, and gave
a small Rap or two ; then one opened to him, but
he shrank back as before. He that opened stept
out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what
wantest thou? With that he fell down to the
ground He that spoke to him wondered to see him
so faint. So he said to him, Peace be to thee, up,
for I have set open the door to thee, come in, for
thou art blest. With that he gat up, and went in
trembling, and when he was in, he was ashamed to
shew his face. Well, after he had been entertained
tiiere a while, as you know how the manner is, he

fie— Vol, i6— e

Mr Fear-
ing's tiou-

pilgrtDisge

His be-
haviour Bl
Ihc SloHBb
of Dlapood

HisiK-
teTiour St
tbe gale

258

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Htsbe-
hSTiour at
Ihc InlEf-
preter'a
dcMr

How he
was m-
lertaincd
theie

He 19 a

lillte en-
eourased
BI the In-
terpreter's
bouse

was bid go on his way, and also told the way he
should take. So he came till he came to our bouse.
But as he behaved himself at the Gate, so he did
at tny Master the Interpreter's door. He lay there-
about in the cold a good while, before he would ad-
venture to call, yet he would not go back, and the
nights were long and cold then. Nay he had a
Note of Necessity in his bosom to my Master, to
receive him and grant him the comfort of his house,
and also to allow him a stout and valiant Conduct
because he was himself so ckickin-hearted a man;
and yet for all that he was afraid to call at the door.
So he lay up and down thereabouts till, poor man.
he was almost starved. Yea so great was his De-
jection, that tho' he saw several others for knocking
got in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, I
think I looked out of the window, and perceiving
a man to be up and down about the door, I went
out to him, and asked what he was; but, poor man,
the water stood in his eyes; so I perceived what he
wanted. I went therefore in and told it in the
house, and we shewed the thing to our Lord. So
he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in;
but 1 dare say I had hard work to do it. At last
he came in, and I will say that for my Lord, he
carried it wonderful lovingly to him. There were
but few good bits at the Table but some of it was
laid upon his trencher. Then he presented the Note,
and my Lord looked thereon, ajid said his desire
should be granted. So when he had been there a
good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to
be a little more comfortable; for my Master, you
must know, is one of very tender bowels, specially
to them that are afraid ; wherefore he carried it so
towards him as might tend most to his encourage-
ment Well, when he had had a sight of the things
of the place, and was ready to lake his Journey
to go to the City, my Lord, as he did to Christian
before, gave him a Bottle of Spirits, and some com-
fortable things to eat Thus we set forward, and

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

2S3

1 1 went before him ; but the man was but of few

[words, only he would sigh aloud.

When we were come to where the three fellows
were hanged, he said that he doubted that that
would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when
he saw the Cross and the Sepulchre. There I con-
fess he desired to stay a little to look, and he seemed
for a while after to be a little cheery. When we
came to the Hill DiMcuUy, he made no stick at
that, nor did he much fear the Lions ; for you must
know that his trouble was not about such things as
those, his fear was about his acceptance at last.

I got him in at the House Beautiful, I think,
before he was willing. Also when he was in, I
brought him acquainted with the Damsels that were
of the place, but he was ashamed to make himself
much for company. He desired much to be alone,
yet he always loved good talk, aiid often would get
behbd the Screen to hear it. He also loved much
to see antient things, and to be pondering them in
his mind. He told me afterwards that he loved
to be in those two houses from which he came
last, to wit, at the Gate, and that of the Interpreter's,
but that he durst not be so bold to ask.

When we went also from the House Beautiful,
down the Hill into the Valley of Huviiliation, he
went down as well as ever I saw man in my lite;
for he cared not how mean he was, so he might
be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of
sympathy betwixt that Valley and him, for I never
saw him better in all his Pilgrimage than when he
was in that Valley.

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground
and kiss the very Flowers that grew in this Valley.
He would now be up every morning by break of
day. tracing and walking to and fro in this Valley.

But when he was come to the entrance of the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, I tlioughi I should
have lost my man ; not for that he had any inclina-
tion to go back, that he always abhorred, but be

He was
sreatly
afraid
vhea tie
gaw the
fiibbcl;
cheery
when hfl
saw lie
cross

Dumpish
at [he
House
Beautifal

He went
dcwD into,
and was
very pleas-
ant in the
Valley
of Ru.
milialian

Much per-
plexed in
the Valley
of the
Shadow
of Death

260

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

Hlshe-

baviour
It Vanitj'
Fair

Wa

boldncffl
allasi

was ready to die for fear. O, the HobgobUtis will
have me, the Hobgoblins will have me, cried he, and
I could not beat him out on't He made such a
noise and such an outcry here, that, had they but
heard him, 'twas enough to encourage them to conie
and fall upon us.

But this I took very great notice of, that this
Valley was as quiet while he went through it, as
ever I knew it before or since. 1 suppose these
Enemies here had now a special check from our
Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr
Fearing was past over it.

It would be too tedious to tell you of all. We
will therefore only mention a passage or two more.
When he was come at Vanity Pair, I thought he
would have fought with all the men in the Fair.
I feared there we should both have been fcnock'd o'
the head, so hot was he againat their fooleries.
Upon the Inchanted Ground he was also very wake-
ful. But when he was come at the River where
was no Bridge, there again he was in a heavy case.
Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for ever,
and so never see that face with comfort that he
bad come so many miles to behold.

And here also I took notice of what was very
remarkable, the Water of that River was lower
at this time than ever I saw it in all my life. So
he went over at last, not much above wet-shod.
When he was going up to the Gate, Mr Great-heart
began to take his leave of him, and to wish him
a good reception above. So he said, / shall, I shall.
Then parted we asunder, and I saw bim no
more.

Hon. Then it seems he was well at last

Great-heabt. Yes, yes; I never had doubt abovt
him ; he was a man of a choice spirit, only he was
always kept very low, and that made his life 89
burdensome to himself, and so troublesome to Others.
He was above many tender of sin. He was so
afraid of doing injuries to others, that he ofteo

I
I

I
■

I

PH^RIH'S PROGRESS

261

would deny himself of that which was lawful, be-

^_ cause he would not offend.

^P Hon. But what should be the reason that such a
good man should be all his days so much in the dark?

GreaT'Heabt, There are two sorts of reasons Reasoas
for it. One is, the wise God will have it so. some J^^ |°° ^^
must pipe and some must -weep. Now Mr Fearing in the daA
was one that played upon this Base; he and his
fellows sound the sackbul, whose notes are more
doleful than the notes of other Musick are; though

■ indeed some say the Base is the Ground of Musick.
And for my part I care not at all for that profession
that begins not in heaviness of mind. The first
string that the Musician usually touches is the Base,
when he intends to put all in time. God also plays
upon this string 5rst, when he sets the soul in tune
for himself. Only here was the imperfection of Mr
Fearing, he could play upon no other Musick but
this, till towards his latter end.

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically, for the
ripening of the Wits o£ young Readers; and be-
cause in the Book of the Revelations, the saved
are compared to a company of Musicians that play
upon their Trumpets and Harps, and sing their
j^^ Songs before the Throne.

^H Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may
^^ see by what relation you have given of him. Diffi-
culties, Lions or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all.
'Twas only Sin Death and Hell that was to him
a terror, because he had some doubts about his
interest in that Ccelestial Country.
^^ GREAT-nKAHT. You say right. Those were the Adow
H things that were his trooblers, and they, 2S you "*""" """
f^ have well observed, arose from the weakness of
bis mind there-about, not from weakness of spirit
as to the practical part of a Pilgrim's life. I dare
believe that, as the Proverb is, he could have bit a
Fire-brand, had it stood in his way; but the things
with which he was oppressed, no man ever yet could
shake off with ease.

PILGRtirS PBOORBSS

Out*.

tiuw'*
■entaiu

Uerer'a

fcfitcnce

Uitlbev't
tcnience

Chbis. Then said ChristiaMi, This relation of Mr
Fearing has done me good. I thought nobody had
becD like me, but I see there was some semblance
'twixt this good man and I, only we differed in
two things. His troubles were so great, they brale
out, but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard
upon him, they made him that he could not knock
at the houses provided for Entertainment, but my
trouble was always such as made me knack the
louder.

Mebcy. If I might also speak my heart. I must
say that something of him has also dwelt in me;
for I have ever been more afraid of the Lake and
the loss of a place In Paradise, than I have been
of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may I
have the happiness to have a habitation there, 'tis
enough, though I part with all the world to win it.

Matt. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing
that made me think that I was far from hai-ing
that within me that accompanies Salvation, but if
it was so with such a good man as he, why may it
not also go well with me?

James. No fears, no Grace, said James. Tho'
there is not always Grace where there is the fear
of Hell, yet to be sure there is no Grace where
there is no fear of God.

Great-seart. Well said, James, thou hast hit
the mark, for the fear of God is the beginning of
Wisdom, and to be sure they that want the bfgiH-
ning have neither middle nor end. But we will
here conclude our discourse of Mr Fearing, after
we have sent after him this farewell.

I

Their Well, Master Fearitig. Aon didst fe«r

(arrwfll Thy God, and wast afraid

about biai Of doing anything while here

That would have thee betray'd.

And didst thnu fear the Lake and Fit?

Would others do so loo.

For as for them that want thy wit

They do themselves undo.

PILGRIM'S PEOGRESS

w

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk; Of Mr
for after Mr Great-heart had made an end with ^^'^'wilJ
Mr Fearing. Mr Honest began to tell them of
another, but his name was Mr Self-tvilt. He pre-
tended himself to be a Pilgrim, said Mr Honest,
but I persuade myself he never came in at the Gate
that Elands at the head of the way.

Great-heart. Had you ever any talk with hiro
about it?

Hon. Yes, more than once or twice, but he would OidHon-
always be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared l^n^^i
for man, nor argument, nor yet example; what his with him
mind prompted him to do, that he would do, and
nothing else could he be got to.

Great-heart. Pray what principles did he hold?
for I suppose you can tell.

Hon. He held that a man might follow the Vices Scit-wiU'*
as well as the Vertucs of the Pilgrims, and that if "f'"''""
he did both he should be certainly saved,

Great-heabt. How? if he had said 'tis possible
for the best to be guilty of the Vices, as well as
to partake of the Vertues of Pilgrims, he could not
much have been blamed. For indeed we are ex-
empted from no Vice absolutely, but on condition
that we watch and strive. But this I perceive is
not the thing; but if I.understand you right, your
meaning is, that he was of that opinion, that it was
allowable so to be?

Hon, Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and
practised.

Great-heakt. But what Ground had he for hie
so saying?

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his
Warrant,

Great-heakt. Prithee, Mr Honest, present tts
with a few particulars.

Hon. So I will. He said to have to do with
other men's Wives had been practised by David,
God's beloved, and therefore he could do it. He
said to have more Women tlian one, was a tiling

m

PILGRHTS PROGRESS

that Solomon practised, and therefore he could do
it. He said that Sarah and the godly Midwives of
Egypt lied, and so did save Rahob. and therefore
he could do it. He said that the Disciples went at
the bidding of their Master, and took away the
owner's Ass, and therefore he could do so too. He
said that Jacob got the Inheritance of his Father
in a way of Guile and Dissimulation, and therefore
he could do so too.

Gbeat-heart. High base indeed, and yoa are
sure he was of this opinion?

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scrip-
ture for it, bring Argument for it, Src.

GitEAT-nEART. An opinion that is not fit to be widi
any allowance in the world.

Hon. You must understand me rightly. He did
not say that any man might do this, but that those
that had the Vertuea of those that did such things,
might also do the same.

GsEAT-HEART. But what more false than such a
conclusion ? for this is as much as to say, that be-
cause good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity,
therefore he had allowance to do it of a presump-
tuous mind. Or if because a Child by the Blast of
the Wind, or for that it stumbled at a Stone, fell
down and defiled itself in mire, therefore he might
wilfully lie down and wallow like a Boar therein.
Who could a thought that any one could so far
a been blinded by the power oi Lust? But what is
written must be true, They stumble at the word
being disobedient, whereunto also they were ap-
pointed.

His supposing that such may have the godly man's
Vertues, who addict themselves to their Vices, is
also a delusion as strong as the other, 'Tis just
as if the Dog should say, I have or may have the
qualities of the Child, because I lick up its slinking
Excrements. To eat up the Sin of God's People, is
no sign of one that is possessed with their Vertues.
Nor can I believe that one that is of this opinion

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

S6S

can at present have Faitli or Love in him. But I
know you have made strong objections against him,
prithee what can he say for himself?

Hon, Why, he says, To do this by way of opinion,
seems abundance more honest than to do it, and
yet hold contrary to it in opinion.

Great-heart. A very wicked answer, for iho'
to let loose the Bridle to Lusts while our opinions
are against such things, is bad ; yet to sin and plead
a toleration so to do, is worse. The one stumbles
Beholders accidentally, the other pleads thein into
the Snare.

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that
have not this man's mouth, and that makes going
on Pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is.

Gbeat-heabt. You have said the truth, and it
is to be lamented. But he that fearetb the King
of Paradise shall come out of them all.

Chris. There are strange opinions in the world,
I know one that said, 'Twas time enough to repent
when they come to die.

Great-heart. Such are not over wise. That
man would a been loth, might he have had a
Week to run twenty mile in for his life, to
have deferred that Journey to the last hour of
that Week.

Hon. You say right, and yet the generality of
them that count themsdves Pilgrims do indeed do
thus. I am, as you see, an old man, and have been
a traveUer in this road many a day, and I have taken
notice of many things.

I have seen some that have set out as if they
would drive all the world afore them, who yet have
in few days died as they in the Wilderness, and so
never gat sight of the Promised Land.

I have seen some that have promised nothing at
first setting out to be Pilgrims, and that one would
a thought could not have lived a day, that have
yet proved very good Pilgrims,

I have seen some who have spoke very well of

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

FrishfiEws
□f trouble

Finl Part,

G^ea^

reaolutioD

Cfarietiana

wUhrtb

foraniim

Gain!

Ttay enter
Into bis

buDM

Ciius

enlffrt»in«

dicni,

■odhoiT

that again have after a little time run as fast jost
back agaib.

I have seen some who have spoke very well of
a Pilgrim's life at first, that after a while havB
spoken as much against it.

I have heard some when they first set out for
Paradise, say positively there is such a place, who
when they have been almost there, have come hack
again and said there is none.

I have heard some vaunt what they would do in
case they should be opposed, that have even at a
false alarm fled Faith, the Pilgrim's way, and all.

Now as they were thus in their way, there came
one running to meet them, and said. Gentlemen
and you of the weaker sort, if you love Life shift
for yourselves, for the Robbers are before you.

Great-heabt. Then said Mr Great-heart, They
be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore.
Well, said he, we are ready for them. So they
went on their way. Now they looked at every
turning, when they should a met with the Villains;
but whether they heard of Mr Great-heart, or
whether they had some other game, they came not
up to the Pilgrims.

Christiana then wished for an Inn for herself
and her Children, because they were weary. Then
said Mr Honest, There is one a little before us,
where a very honorable Disciple, one Gaius, dwells.
So they all concluded to turn in thitlier, and the
rather because the old Gentleman gave him so good
a report. So when they came to the door, they
went in, not knocking, for Folks use not to knodc
at the door of an Inn. Then they called for the
Master of the house, and he came to them. So
they asked if they might lie there that night?

Gaius, Yes Gentlemen, if you be true men, for
my house is for none but Pilgrims. Then was
Christiana, Mercy and the Boys the more glad,
for that the Innkeeper was a lover of Pilgrims.
So thejr called for Rooms, and he shewed them

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS ^~~ 367

I one for Christiana and her Children and Mercy,

! and another for Mr Great-heart and the old Gentle-
man.

Great-heakt. Then said Mr Great-heart, Good
Gaius, what hast thou for Supper? for these Pil-
grims have come far to-day, and are weary.

Gaius. It is late, said Gains, so we cannot con-
veniently go out to seek food, but such as we have
you shall be welcome to, if that will content.

Great-heart. We will be content with what thou
hast in the house, forasmuch a3 I have proved thee,
thou art never destitute of that which is convenient.

I Then he went down and spake to the Cook, whose Gbius'b
name was Taste-thal-whlch-is-good, to get ready '«>''
Supper for so many Pilgrims, This done, he comes
up again, saying. Come my good Friends, you are
welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house
to entertain you; and while Supper is making ready,
if you please, let us entertain one another with
some good discourse. So they all said, Content.

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Whose Wife is this aged Talk
Matron ? and whose Daughter is this young Damsel ? ™',*<"'

Great-heart. The Woman is the Wife of one hispiEsis
Christian a Pilgrim of former times, and these are
his four Children. The Maid is one of her Ac- MarktUs
quaintance, one that she hath persuaded to come
with her on Pilgrimage. The Boys take all after
their Father, and covet to tread in his steps; yea,

I if they do but see any place where the old Pilgrim
hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministreth joy
to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in
the same,

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's WiSe? O! Cbria-
and are these Christian's Children ? I knew your ^^^,g^
Husband's Father, yea, also his Father's Father.
Many have been good of this stock, their Ancestors
dwelt first at Antioch. Christian's Progenitors (I
suppose you have heard your Husband talk of them)
were very worthy men. They have above any that
I koow, shewed themselves men of great Vertue

Aflvice to
( ChHsiiana
' «baul

ller hoys

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

and CoHrage for the Lord of Pilgrims, his ways,
and them that loved him, I have heard of many
of your Husband's Relations that have stood all
trials for the sake of the Truth. Stephen that was
one of the first of the Family from whence your
Husband sprang, was knocked o' the head with
Stones. James, another of this Generation, ivas slain
with the edge of the Sword, To say nothing of
Paul and Pelcr, men antiently of the Family from
whence your Husband came, there was Ignatius
who was cast to the Lions, Romanus whose flesh
was cut by pieces from his bones, and Polycarp that
played the man in the Fire. There was he that was
hanged up in a Basket in the Sun for the Wasps
to eat, and he whom they put into a Sack and cast
him into the Sea to be drowned. 'Twould be im-
possible utterly to count up all of that Family that
have suffered Injuries and Death for the love of
a Pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be glad to see that
thy Husband has left behind him four such Boys
as these. I hope they will bear up their Father's
name, and tread in their Father's steps, and come
to their Father's end.

Gheat-heart. Indeed Sir. they are likely Lads,
they seem to chuse heartily their Father's ways.

Gaius. That is it that I said, wherefore Chris-
tian's Family is like still to spread abroad upon the
face of the ground, and yet to be numerous «pOll
the face of the earth. Wherefore let Christiana
look out some Damsels for her Sons, to whom they
may be betrothed, &c. that the name of their
Father and the house of his Progenitors may never
be forgotten in the world.

Hon, 'Tis pity this Family should fall and be
extinct.

GAitJs. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may;
but let Christiana take my advice, and that's the way
to uphold it.

And Christiana, said this Innkeeper, I am glad
to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here,

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

269

I

lovely couple. And may I advise, take Mercy Mercy and
into a nearer Relation to thee. If she will, let her Maiihcw
be given to Matthew thy eldest Son, 'tis the way to '^
preserve you a Posterity in the earth. So this
match was concluded, and in process of time they
were married. But more of that hereafter.

Gaiits also proceeded and said, I will now speak Why
on the behalf of Women, to take away their Re- ^j™™
proach. For as Death and the Curse came into bo much
the world by a Woman, so also did Life and Health : ^^'^
Cod sent forth his Son, made of a l-Voman. Yea, to
shew how much those that came after did abhor the
act of their Mother, this sex in the Old Testament
coveted Children, if happily this or that Woman
might be the Mother of the Saviour of the World.

I will say again, that when the Saviour was come,
Women rejoiced in him before either Man or
Angel. I read not, (hat ever any Man" did give
unto Christ so much as one Groat, but the Women
followed him and ministered to him of their Sub-
stance. 'Twas a Woman that washed his Feet
with Tears, and a Woman that anointed his Body
to the Burial. They were Women that wept when
he was going to the Cross, and Women that fol-
lowed him from the Cross, and that sat by his Sep-
ulchre when he was buried. They were Women
that was first with him at his Resurrection -morn,
and Women that brought tiding first to his Dis-
ciples that he was risen from the Dead. Women
therefore are highly favoured, and shew by these
things that they are sharers with us in the Grace
of Life.

Now the Cook sent up to signify that Supper was Supper
almost ready, and sent one to lay the Cloath, the
Trenchers, and to set the Salt and Bread in order.

Then said Matthew, The sight of this Cloath and
of this forerunner of the Supper, begetteth in me
a greater Appetite to ray food than I had before,

Gaius. So let all ministring doctrines to thee in
this life, beget in diee a greater desire to sit at the

ready

tn

What lobe

(ram lay-
bvof Ibe

doth and
traebai

AiKab
•f nnlli

Of hoar

and butter

Adiih
of apples

PILGRIVS rnOGRESS

Supper of the great Kin^; to his Kingdom: for
all Preaching Books and Orxtinmus here, are but
as the laying of the Trenchers and as setting of
Salt upon the Board, when compared irilh the
Feast that our Lord will make for tu when wc come
to his House.

So Supper came up, and first a Heave- shoulder
and a Wave- breast was set on the Table before them,
to shew that they must begin their mea! with
Prayer and Praise to God. The Heave-shoulder
David lifted his Heart up lo God with, and with
the Wave-breast, where his Heart lay, with that
he used to lean upon his Harp when he played.
These two Dishes were very fresh and good, and
they all cat heartily well thereof.

The next they brought up was a Bottle of Wine,
red as Blood. So Gaius said to them. Drink freely,
this is ihs Juice of the true Vine that makes glad
the heart of God and Man. So they drank and
were merry.

The next was a dish of Milk well crumbed. But
Gaius said. Let the Boys have that, that Ibey may
grow thereby.

Then they brought up in course a dish of Butter
and Hony. Then said Gatus, Eat freely of this,
for this is good lo cheer up and strengthen your
Judgments and Understandings. This was our
Lord's dish when he was a Child, Butler and Hony
shall he eat, that he ntay know to refuse the EvU
and chuse the Good.

Then they brought them up a dish of Apples, and
they were very good tasted Fruit. Then said Mat-
thew, May we eat Apples, since they were such,
by and with which the Serpent beguiled our first
Mother?

Then said Gaius,

Applet were Ihey with which we were beguil'd.
Yet it'n, not Apples, hath our joula defll'd.
Apples forbid, if eat, corrupts the Blood :
To eat such when commanded, does us good.

PILGMM'S PROGRESS ^^^"^ 271

Drinic of his Flagons, then, thou Church, his DoT^
Add «3t his Apples, who are sick of Love.

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple because
I a while since was sick with eating of Fruit.

Gaius. Forbidden Fruit will make you sick, but
not what our Lord has tolerated.

While they were thus talking, they were presented a dish
with another dish, and 'twas a dish of Nuts. Then "fni^ts
said some at the Table, Nuts spoil tender Teeth,
specially the Teeth of Children; which when Gattts
heard, he said.

Hard T«ict» are Nuts (I will not call them cheaters)
Whose Shells do keep their Kernels froni the Eaters.
Ope then the Shells, and you shall have the Meat,
They here are brought for you to crack and eat.

Then were they very merry, and sat at the Tabic
a long time, talking of many things. Then said
the old Gentleman, My good Landlord, while we
are cracking your Nuts, if you please, do you open
this Riddle:

A riddle
put forUl
by Old
Honcit

A man there was. tho' some did count him mad.
The more he cast away the more he had.

Then they all gave good heed, wondring what
good Gaius would say; so he sat still a while, and
then thus replied:

He that bestows his Goods upon the Poor, Gaius

Shall have as much again, and ten tiroes more. o^ra. it

Then said fosef>h, I dare say Sir, I did not think Joseph
you could a found it out. '"■''^''*

Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this
way a great while, nothing teaches like experience,
I have learned of my Lord to be kind, and have
found by experience that I have gained thereby.
There is thai scattereth. yet increaseth, and there
is that witMwIdetk more than is meet, but it lendelh
to Poverty. There is that maketk himself Rich, yet

tn

riLGRIM'S PROGRESS

■re

dtup

katk fiolhing, there is that tnaketh himself Poor,
yet hath great Riches.

Then Samuel wliispercd to Christiana his Mother,
and said, Mother, this is a very good man's house,
let us stay here a good while, and let my Brother
Matthew be married here to Mercy before we go
any further.

The which Caius the Host overhearing said,
With a very good will, my Child.
Mattticw So they stayed there more than a month, and
•ndMfrcT f,i^cy ^^^ gi^gQ jq Motthew to Wife.

While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was,
would be making Coats and Garments to the Poor,
by which she brought up a very good report upon
the Pilgrims.
Th-^finys But to rctum again to our Story. After Supper
S'c'rc^'^' *^^ ^^ desired a Bed, for that they were weary
with travelling. Then Gaius called to shew them
their chamber, but said Mercy, I will have them to
Bed. So she had them to Bed, and they slept well.
But the rest sat up all night, for Gains and they
were such suitable Company that they could not
tell how to part. Then after much talk of their
Lord, themselves, and their Journey, old Mr Honest,
he that put forth the Riddle to Gaius, began to
nod. Then said Great-heart, What Sir, you begin to
be drowsy, come, rub up, now here's a Riddle for
you. Tlien said Mr Honest, Let's hear it
Then said Mr Great-heart:

He that will kill, must first be overcome;

Who live abroad would, first must die at home.

Hah, said Mr. Honest, it Is a hard one, hard to
expound, and harder to practise. But come Land-
lord, said he, I will if you please, leave my part to
you, do you expound it, and I will hear what you
say.

No said Gaius, 'twas put to yon, and 'tis ex-
pected that you should answer it.

Then said the old Gentleman,

Old Hon-
fA nods

Ailddle

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

He fir« by Grace muat tonqner'd be, Tbe riddle

ThiE Sin would mortify ; opaed

And wbo, that lives, would convince me.
Unto bimself must die.

I It is right, said Gains, good Doctrine and Ex-
perience leaches this. For Firil, until Grace dis-
plays itself, and overcomes the soul with its Glory,
it is altogether without heart lo oppose Sin. Be-
sides, if Sin is Satan's Cords by which the soul
I lies bound, how should it make resistance before it
is loosed from that irfinnity?
Secondly, Nor will any that knows either Reason
or Grace, believe that such a man can be a living
Monument of Grace that is a Slave to his own
Corruptions.
And now it comes in my mind, I will tcl! you a Aques&m
Storj- worth the hearing. There were two men ^?^*'"^
I that went on Pilgrimage, the one began when he
was young, the other when he was old. The
young man had strong Corruptions to grapple
with, the oM man's were decayed with the decays
of nature. The young man trod his steps as even
as did the old one, and was every way as light as
he. Who now, or which of them, had their Graces
shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike?

Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that Acom-
which heads it against the greatest opposition, p""""
gives best demonstration that it is strongest. Spe-
cially when it also holdeth pace with that that meets
not with half so much, as to be sure old age
does not.

Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed Amijtaice
themselves with this mistake, namely, taking the
decays of Nature for a gracious Conquest over
Corruptions, and so have been apt to beguile them-
selves. Indeed old men that are gracious are best
able to give advice to them that are young, because
they have seen most of the emptiness of things.
But yet. for an old and a young to set out both
together, the young one has the advantage of the

m

PILGRIM'S PROGKESS

Anot6»r
quesdon

Giuit
Slay-good
assauJifd
and &Iain

He is
fonnd

witb one
Fcrhlt-
mind in
his bands

fairest discovery of a work of Grace within him, tho
the old man's Corruptions are naturally the weakest

Thus they sat talking till break of day. Now when
the Family was up. Christiana bid her Son James
that he should read a Chapter, so he read the 53d
of fsaiah. When he had done, Mr Honest asked,
why it was said llial the Saviour is said to come out
of a dry ground, and also that he had no form nor
comeliness in himT

Great-heart. Then said Mr Great-heart, To the
First I answer. Because the Church of the Jews,
of which Christ came, had then lost almost all the
Sap and Spirit of Religion. To the Second I
say, the words are spoken in the person of the
Unbelievers, who because they want thai Eye that
can see into our Prince's Heart, therefore they
judge of him by the meanness of his Outside. Just
like those that know not that Precious Stones are
covered over with a homely Crust, who when they
have found one, because they know not what they
have foand, cast it again away as men do a common
Stone.

Well, said Galus. now you are here, and since,
as I know, Mr Great-heart is good at his Weapons,
if yoa please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we
will walk into the Fields to see it we can do any
good. About a mile from hence there is one Slay-
good, a Giant that doth much annoy the King's
High-way in these parts; and I know whereabout
his Haunt is. He is Master of a number of Thieves.
'Twould be well if we could dear these parts of him.

So they consented and went, Mr Great-heart
with his Sword, Helmet and Shield, and the rest
with Spears and Staves.

When they came to the place where he was, they
found him with one Feeble-mind in his hands,
whom his Servants had brought unto him, having
taken him in the way. Now the Giant was rifling
of him, with a purpose after that to pick his Bones,
for he was of the nature of Flesh-eaters.

pujGRIM's progress

J75

I

Well, so soon as he saw Mr Great-heart and
his Friends at the Mouth of his cave with their
Weapons, he demanded what they wanted?

Gbeat-heakt. We want thee, for we are come

to revenge the quarrel of the ruany that thou hast
slain of the Pilgrims, when thou hast dragged ihem
out of the King's High-way, wherefore come oat
of thy Cave. So he armed himself and came out,
and to a Battle they went, and fought for above an
hour and then stood still to take wind.

Slay. Then said the Giant, Why are you here
on my ground?

GnEAT-HEART. To revenge the Blood of Pilgrims, One
as I also toid thee before. So they went to it again, ''"'''*■
and the Giant made Mr Great-heart give back ; but rafd from
he came up again, and in the greatness of his mind '^' 8^*°'
he let fly with such stoutness at the Giant's head
and sides, that he made him let his Weapon fall out
of his hand. So he smote him and slew him,
and cut off his Head, and brought it away to the
Inn. He also took Feeble-mind the Pilgrim, and
brought him with him to his Lodgings. When they

I were come home, they shewed his head to the
Family, and then set it up, as they had done others
before, tor a terror to those that should attempt to
do as he hereafter.

( Then they asked Mr Feeble-mind how he fell
into his hands?

Feeble-mind, Then said the poor man, I am 3 How
sickly man as you see. and, because Death did ^"j'"
usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I cant to be
should never be well at home; so I betook myself to "P''*""
a Pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the

i Town of Uncertain, where I and my Father were
bom. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor
yet of mind ; but would i f I could, tho' I can but crawl,
spend my life in the Pilgrim's way. When I came
at the Gate that is at the head of the way. the
Lord of that place did entertain me freely, neither
objected he against my weekly looks, nor against

s»

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

my feeble mind ; but gave rae such things that were
necessary for my Journey, and bid me hope to the
end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter,
I received much kindness there, and because the
Hit! DifUcully was judged too hard for me, I was
carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed I
have foiuid much relief from Pilgrims, tho' nwie
was willing to go so softly as I am forced to do;
yet still as they came on, they bid me be of good
cheer, and said that it was the will of their Lord
that comfort should be given to the feeble-minded,
ajid so went on their own pace. When I was come
up to Assault Lane, then this Giant met with me,
and bid me prepare for an Encounter; but alas,
feeble one that I was, I had more need of a Cordial,
MtritihTa So he came up and took me. I conceited he should
not kill me. Also when he had got me into his
Den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed
I should come out alive again ; for I have heard that
not only any Pilgrim that is taken captive by violent
hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master.
is by the Laws of Providence to die by the hana
of the Enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed
to be sure I am ; but I am, as you see, escaped with
Life, for the which 1 thank my King as Author,
and you as the Means. Other brunts I also look for,
but this I have resolved on, to wit, to ruH when I
can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when
I cannot go. As to the main, I thank htm that
loves me, I am fixed. My way is before me, my
Mind is beyond the River that has no Bridge, tho'
I am, as you see, but of a feeble Mind.

Hon. Then said old Mr Honest, Have you not
Bomc time ago been acquainted with one Mr Fear-
ing a Pilgrim?

Feeble. Acquainted with him. Yes. He came

from the Town of Stupidity, which lieth four de-

, grees to the northward of the City of Destruction,

and as many ofif of where I was bora ; yet we were

wdl acquainted, for indeed he was mine Uocl^ of

UaifctbiB

Mr Feir-
ing. Mr
Fecbte-
mind's
unclt

I

i

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

wi

I

PFdo

r's Brother. He and I have been much of a
teniper. He was a Utile shorter than I, but yet we
were much of a complexion.

Hon. I perceive you know bini, and I am apt to F«bic-
believe also that you were related one to another; "'"^
for you have his whitely Look, a Cast like his with o( Mr'"'^
your eye, and your Speech is much alike, Fcaring's

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us """"
both, and besides, what I have read in him, I have
for the most part found in myself.

Gaids. Come Sir, said good Gains, be of good Kaiue com.
cheer, you are welcome to me and to my house, '"" "
and what thou iiast a mind to, call for freely; and
what thou would'st have my servants to do for
thee, they will do it with a ready mind.

Then said Mr Feeble-mind, This is unexpected Notice to
Favour, and as the Sun shining out of a very dark pf*^^"^
Qoud. Did Giant Slay-good intend me this favour
when he stopped me, and resolved to let me go no
further? Did he intend that after he had rifled my
Pockets. I should go to Gaius mine Host ? Yet so it is.

Now just as Mr Feeble-mind and Gaius was thus
talk, there comes one running and called at the Tidingi
door, and told. That about a mile aiid a half off No't-ri''M
there was one Mr Not-right a Pilgrim struck dead »bs eidn
upon the place where he was with a ThunderbolL ^'""i

Feeble. Alas, said Mr Feeble-mind, is he slain? boii.
He overtook me some days before I came so far as ^^^'
hither, and would be my Company-keeper. He also a^^^^'
was with me when Slay-good the Giant took me, but commeota
he was nimble of his heels and escaped. But it "*""■ '*
seems be escaped to die, and I was took to live.

I Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were
married. Also Gains gave his Daughter Phebe to

What one would thick doth seek to slay outright,

Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight.

Tha.t very Providence whose face is Death,

Doth ofttimes to the lowly Life bequeath.

I lalten was, hr did escape and flee.

Hands cross'd gives Death to him, and Life to me.

278

PILGHIWS PROGRESS

The

pilgrims
prepare
lo go
for*«id

How tlier
ercel one
jnotbcr At
parting

GaiHS. h!fi
Ta^ kind'
nesa to
Feeble-

Feebtt-
mind for
Boiog
bebind

James, Matthew's Brother, to Wife; after which
time they yet stayed above ten days at Gaitu's
house, spending tlieir time and the seasons like
as Pilgrims use to do.

When they were to depart, Gai'us made them a
Feast, and they did eat and drink and were merry.
Now the hour was come that they must be gone,
wherefore Mr Great-keart called for a Reckoning.
But GaUis told him tliat at his house it was not the
custom for Pilgrims to pay for their Entertainment,
He boarded them by the year, but looked for his
pay from the good Satnaritan, who had promised
him at his return, whatsoever charge he was at with
them faithfully to repay him. Then said Mr Great-
heart to him,

Geeat-heakt. Beloved, thou dost faithfully what-
soever thou dost to the Brethren and lo Strangers,
which have borne -witness of thy Charity before the
Church; whom if thou (yet) bring forward on
their Journey after a Godly sort, thou shall do well.

Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of
his Children, and particularly of Mr Feeble-mind.
He also gave him something to drink by the way.

Now Mr Feeble-mind, wiien they were going out
of the door, made as if he intended to linger. The
which when Mr Great-heart espied, he said. Come
Mr Feeble-mind, pray do you go along with us, I
will be your Conductor, and you shall fare as the
rest.

Feebi-E. Alas, I want a suitable Companion, you
arc ali lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am
weak, I chusc therefore rather to come behind,
lest by reason of my many Infirmities I should be
both a Burden to myself and to you. I am, as I
said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall
be offended and made weak at that which others can
bear. I shall like no Laughing, I shall like no
gay Attire, I shall like no unprofitable Questions.
Nay I am so weak a man, as to be otfended with
that which others have a liberty to do. I do not

PILGRIM'S PEOGRE3S

379

I

»

N
^

yet know all the Truth. I am a very ignorant Chris-
tian man. Sometimes if I hear some rejoice in
the Lord, it troubles me because I camiot do ao
too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among
the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy,
or as a Lamp despised, (He that is ready to slip
wilh his feet, is as a Lamp despised in the thought
of him thai is at ease.) So that I know not what
to do.

Great-heart. But Brother, said Mr Great-heart,
I have it in Commission to comfort the feeble-
minded, and to support the weak. You must needs
go along with us ; we will wait for you, we will lend
you our help, we will deny ourselves of some things
both opinionative and practical for your sake, we
will not enter into doubtful disputations before you,
we will be made all things to you rather than you
shall be left behind.

Now all this while they were at Gaius's door;
and behold as they were thus in tlie heat of their
discourse Mr Ready-lo-halt came by with his
Crutches in his hand, and he also was going on
Pilgrimage.

Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind to him, Man,
how camest thou hither? I was but just now com-
plaining that I had not a suitable Companion, but
thou art according to my wish. Welcome, welcome,
good Mr Ready-to-hall, I hope thee and I may be
some help.

Ready-to-halt. I shall be glad of thy Company,
said the other; and good Mr Feeble-mind, rather
than we will part, since we are thus happily met,
I will lend thee one of my Crutches.

Feeble. Nay, said he, tho' I thank thee for thy
good will, I am not inclined to halt before I am
lame. Howbcit, I think when occasion is, it may
help me against a Dog.

RtADV. If either myself or my Crutches can do
thee a pleasure, we are both at thy command, good
Mr Feeble-mind.

His Mcute
fork

Great-
heart 'e
caxHiaiasion

A Chiis-

tian spirit

Promise!

Feebls-

to &C(^
Keady.

come bj

230

PILGHISrS PROGRESS

New talk

Thus therefore they went on, Mr Great-heart
and Mr Honest went before, Christiana and her
Children went next, and Mr Feeble-mind and Mr
Ready'to-halt canie behind with his Crutches, Then
said Mr Hottest,

Hon. Pray Sir, now we are upon the Road, tell
us some profitable things of some that have gone
on Pilgrimage before us.
First port. Great-heart. With 3. good wili I supposc you
'^''** have heard how Ckrislian of old did meet with
Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation, and also
what hard work be had to go through the Valley
of the Shadow of Death. Also I think yon cannot
but have heard how Faithful was put to it with
Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one
Discontent, and Shame, four as deceitful Villains
as a man can meet with upon the road.

Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this: but Indeed
good Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame, he
was an unwearied one.

Great-heaht. Ay, for as the Pilgrim well said,
he of all men had the wrong name.

Hon. But pray Sir, where was it that Christian
and Faithful met Talkative? That same was also
a notable one.

Gbeat-heart. He was a confident Fool, yet many
follow his ways.

Hon. He had like to a beguiled Faithful.

Great-heart. Ay, but Christian put him into a
way quickly to find him out, Thus they went on till
they came at the place where Evangelist met with
Christian and Faithful, and prophesied to them of
what should befall them at Vanity Fair.

Great-heart. Then said their Guide, Hereabouts
did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist,
who prophesied to them of what Troubles they
should meet wnth at Vanity Fair.

Hon, Say you so? I dare say It was a hard
Chapter that then he did read unto them.

Great-heart. 'Twas so; but he gave them ca-

4

VinrtVtn,
P-79

First Pirt
p, 8tt

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

281

couragement withal. But what do we talk of them?
they were a couple of lion-like men, they had set
their faces like flint Don't you remember how un-
I daunted diey were when they stood before the
Judge P

Hon. Well, Faithful bravely suffered.

Great-heart. So he did, and as brave things
came on't, for Hopeful and some others, as the
Story relates it, were converted by his Death.

Hon. Well, but pray go on, for you are well ac-
quainted with things.

Great-heart. Above ali that Christian met with
after he had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-
ends was the arch one.

Hosf. By-ends, What was he?

Gbzat-heart. a very arch Fellow, a downright
Hypocrite. One that would b? religious which way
ever the World went, but so cunning that he would
be sure neither to lose nor suffer for it. * He had
his mode of Religion for every fresh occasion, and
his Wife was as good at it as he. He would turn
and change from opinion to opinion, yea, and plead
for so doing too. But so far as I could learn, he
came to an ill end with his by-ends, nor did I ever
hear that any of his Children were ever of any
esteem with any that truly feared God.
I Now by this time they were come within sight
of the Town of Vanity where Vanity Fair is kept.
So when they saw that they were so near the Town,
they consulted with one another how they should
pass through the Town, and some said one thing
and some another. At last Mr Great-heart said,
1 have, as you may understand, often been a Con-
ductor of Pilgrims through this Town, now I am
acquainted with one Mr Mnason, a Cyprusian by
Nation, an old Disciple, at whose house we may
lodge. H you think good, said he, we will turn
in there.

Content, said old Honest, Content, said Chris-
tiana, Content said Mr Feeble-mind, and so they

First Psit,

p. 91

First Part,
p. 103

They are
come
wilhio
Bighl o(
Vanity

They
tnleriijln

one Mr

to lodge

382

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

They are
glad of

lainment

They
desire to
sec some
of ihe
eood peo-
ple of
the town

said alL Now you must think it was eventide
by that they got to the outside of the Town, but
Mr Great-heart knew the way to the old man's
house. So thither they came; and be called at the
door, and the old man within knew his tongue so
soon as ever he heard it; so he opened, and they
all came in. Then said Mnason their Host, Horn
far have ye come to-day? so they said, From the
house of Gaius our Friend. I promise you, said he,
you have gone a good stitch, you may well be a
weary, sit down. So they sat down.

Great-heart. Then said their Guide, Come, whatj
cheer Sirs? I dare say you are welcome to myj
Friend.

Mnason. 1 also, said Mr Mnasott, do bid youl
welcome, and whatever you want, do but say, andj
we will do what we can to get it for you.

Hon. Our great want a while since was Harbour
and good Company, and now I hope we have both. i

Mnason. For Harbour, you see what it is, but ^|
for good Company, that will appear in the trial. ^B

GfiEAT-afiAHT. Well, said Mr Great-heart, will
you have the Pilgrims up into iheir Lodging?

Mnason. I will, said Mr Mnason. So he had
them to their respective places; and also shewed
them a very fair Dining-room, where they might ^.
be and sup together, until time was come to go^|
to Rest. V

Now when they were set in their places, and were
a little cheery after their Journey, Mr Honest asked
his Landlord if there were any store of good people
in the Town? ^

Mnason. Wc have a few, for indeed they are but^
a few when compared with them on the other side.

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them?
for the sight of good men to them that are going
on Pilgrimage, is like to the appearing of the Moon^
and the Stars to them that are sailing upon the
Seas.

Then Mr Mnason stamped with his foot, and

'6

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

283

»

this daughter Grace came up; so he said unto her,
Grace, go you tell my Friends, Mr Conlrite, Mr
Holy-man, Mr Love-saint, Mr Dare-nol-lye, and
Mr Penitent, that I have a Friend or two at my
house that have a mind this evening to see them.

So Grace went to call them, and tliey came and
after Salutation made, they sat down together at
the Table.

Then said Mr Mnason their Landlord, My Neigh-
bors, I have, as you see, a Company of Strangers
come to my house, they are Pilgrims, they come
from afar, and are going to Mount Sion. But who,
quoth he, do you think this is, pointing with his
finger to Christiana, it is Christiana the Wife of
Christian that famous Pilgrim, who with Faithful
his Brother were so shamefully handled in our
Town. At that they stood amazed, saying, We
little thought to see Chrisiiana, when Grace came
to call us, wherefore this is a very comfortable
surprise. Then they asked her of her welfare, and
if these young men were her Husband's Sons?
And when she had told them they were, they said.
The King whom you love and serve, make you as
your Fatlier, and bring you where he is ui Peace.

Hon. Then Mr Honest (wben they were all sat
down) asked Mr Contrite and the rest in what
posture their Town was at present?

CoNTBiTE. You may be sure we are full of hurry
in Fair-time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and
spirits in any good order, when we are in a cum-
bered condition. He that lives in such a place as
this is, and that has to do with such as we have.
haa need of an Item, to caution him to take heed
every moment of the day.

Hon. But how are your Neighbors for quietness?

Contrite. They are much more moderate now
than formerly. You know how Christian and Faith-
ful were used at our Town; but of late, I say,
they have been far more moderate. I think the
blood of Faithful lieth with load upon tbem till

Some
sent for

Some talk
belwixi
Mi- Hon-
est and
Contrite

The fruit
of watch-
fuiaesi

Perseco.
lion not
so hot at
Vanity
Fair as
fonuerlj

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

now, for since they buraed him they have been
ashamed to bum any more. In those days we
were afraid to walk the Streets, but now we can
shew our heads. Then the name of a Professor
was odious, nozv, specially in some parts of our
Town (for yon know our Town is large) Religion
is counted honourable.

Then said Mr Contrite to them, Pray how farcth
it with you in your Pilgrimage? How stands the
Country affected towards you?

Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to Way-
faring men ; sometime.*; our way is clean, sometimes
foul, sometimes up hi!!, sometimes down hill. We
are seldom at a certainty, the Wind is not always
on our backs, nor is every one a Friend that we
meet with in the way. We have met with some
notable Rubs already, and what are yet behind we
know not, but for the most part we find it true that
has been talked of of old. A good man must suffer
Trouble.

Contrite. You ulk of Rube, what Rubs have
you met withal ?

Hon. Nay, ask Mr Great-heart our Guide, for
he can give the best account of that.

Great-heart. We have been beset three or four
times already. First Christiana and her Children
were beset with two Ruffians, that they feared would
3 took away their lives. We was beset with Giant
Bloody-man, Giant MohI and Giant Shy-good. In-
deed we did rather beset the last, than were beset
of him. And thus it was: After we had been some
time at the house of Gaius, mine Host and of the
whole Church, we were minded upon a time to take
our Weapons with us. and so go see if we could
light upon any of those that were Enemies to
Pilgrims, f for we heard that there was a notable one
thereabouts.) Now Gatus knew his Haunt better
than I, because he dwelt thereabout, so we looked
and looked till at last we discerned the Mouth of
his Cave, then we were glad and plucked up oat

t

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

285

I

I
I

Spirits. So we approached up to his Den, and lo
when we came there, he had dragged by mere
force into his Net this poor Mao Mr Fcebtetnind,
and was about to bring him to his end. But when
he saw us, supposing as we thought he had had
another Prey, he left the poor man in his Hole, and
came out. So we fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid
about him; but in conclusion he was brought down
to the ground, and his Head cut off, and set up by
the Way-side for a terror to such as should after
practise such Ungodliness. That I tell you the
truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was
as a Lamb taken out of the Mouth of the Lion.

Feeble-mind. Then said Mr Feeble-mind, I found
this true to my Cost and Comfort, to my Cost when
he threatened to pick my Bones every moment,
and to my Comfort when I saw Mr Great-heart
and his Friends with their Weapons approach so
near for my Deliverance,

Holy-man. Then said Mr Holy-man, There are
two things that they have need to be possessed with
that go on Pilgrimage, courage, and an unspotted
life. If they have not courage, they can never
hold on their way, and if their Lives be loose, they
will make the very name of a Pilgrim stink,

LoTE-SAiNT. Then said Mr Love-saint, I hope
this caution is not needful amon^t you. But truly
there are many that go upon the road, that rather
declare themselves Strangers to Pilgrimage than
Strangers and Pilgrims in the Earth.

Dabe-NOt-i-VE. Then said Mr Dare-not-lye, Tis
true, they neither have the Pilgrim's Weed, nor
the Pilgrim's Courage; they go not uprightly, but
all awry with their feet ; one Shoe goes in-ward,
another outward, and their Hosen out behind ; there
a Rag, and there a Rent, to the Disparagement of
their Lord

Penitent. These things, said Mr Penitent, they
ought to be troubled for, nor are the Pilgrims
like to have that Grace put upon them and their

Mr Holj-
speech

Mr Love^

saint's

£p«th

Mr Dare
speech

Mr Pfid-
ten(*a

S86

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

A oiQnilFr

Mia abapc,
bis lUlure

Pilgrim's Progress as they desire, until the way is
cleared of such Spots and Blemishes.

Thus tliey sat talking and spending the time,
luitil Supper was set upon the Table; unto which
they went and refreshed their weary bodies ; so
they went to Rest. Now they stayed in this Fair
a great while at the house of this Mr Mnasori;
who in process of time gave his daughter Grace
unto Samuel Chrisliatta's Son to Wife, and his
Daughter Martha to Joseph.

The time as I said, that they lay here was long,
(for it was not now as in former times.) Where-
fore the Pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the'
good people of the Town, and did them what serv-
ice tliey could, Mercy, as she was wont, laboured
much for the Poor, wherefore their Bellies and
Backs blessed her, and she was there an Ornament
to her Profession. And to say the truth for Grace
Phebe and Mariha, they were all of a very good
Nature, and did much good in their place. They
were also all of them very Fruitful, so that Chris-
tian's name, as was said before, was like to live in
the World.

While they lay here, there came a Monster out
of the Woods, and slew many of the people of the
Town. It would also carry away their Children.
and teach them to suck its Whelps. Now no man
in the Town durst so much as face this Monster,
but all men fled when they heard of the Noise of
his coming.

The Monster was like unto no one Beast upon
the earth ; its Body was like the Dragon, and it had
seven Heads and ten Horns. It made great havock
of Children, and yet it was governed by a Woman.
This Monster propounded Conditions to men, and
such men as loved their Lives more than their
Souls, accepted of those Conditions. So they came
under.

Now this Mr Great-heart, together with these
that came to visit the Pilgrims at Mr Mnason's

i

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

287

^

house, entered into a Covenant to go and engage
this Beast, if perhaps they might deliver tlie people
of this Town from the Paws and Mouth of this
so devouring a Serpent.

Then did Mr Great-heart, Mr Contrite, Mr How he b
Holy-man, Mr Dare-not-lye, and Mr Penitent, with "^"EaBcd
their Weapons go forth to meet him. Now the
Monster at first was very rampant, and looked upon
these Enemies with great Disdain, but they so be-
laboured him, being sturdy men at Arms, that they
made him make a. Retreat. So they came home to
Mr Mnason's house again.

The Monster, you must know, had his certain
Seasons to come out in, and to make his Attempts
upon the Children of the people of the Town; also
these Seasons did these valiant Worthies watch
him in, and did still continually assault him; inso-
much that in process of time he became not only
wounded but lame, also he has not made that havock
of the Towns-men's Children as formerly he has
done. And it is verily believed by some, that this
Beast will die of his Wounds.

This therefore made Mr Great-heart and his
Fellows of great Fame in this Town, so that many
of the people that wanted their taste of things, yet
had a reverend Esteem and Respect for them. Upon
this account therefore it was that these Pilgrims
got not much hurt here. True there were some of
the baser sort, that could see no more than a Mole,
nor understand more than a Beast, these had no
reverence for these men, nor took they notice of
their Valour or Adventures.

Well the time grew on that the Pilgrims must go
on their way, wherefore they prepared for their
Journey. They sent for their Friends, they con-
ferred with them, they had some time set apart
therein to commit each other to the Protection of
their Prince. There was again that brought them
of such things as they had, that was fit for the
Weak and the Strong, for the Women and the

28B

PnXJKI&rS FROGR&SS

FiinPtTt.
p. Ill

Men, and so laded them with such things as was
necessary.

Then they set forwards on their way. and their
Friends accompanying them so far as was con-
venient, they again committed each other to the
Protection of their King, and parted.

They therefore that were of the Pilgrims' Com-
pany went on, and Mr Greal-hcart went before
them. Now the Women and Children being weakly,
they were forced to go as they could bear, by this
means Mr Ready-to-halt and M"r Feeble-mind
bad more to sympathize with their Condition.

When they were gone from the Towns-men, and
when their Friends had bid them farewell they
quickly came to the place where Faithful was put
to Death. There therefore they made a stand, and
thanked Him that had enabled him to bear his Cross
so well, and the rather because they now found that
they had a benefit by such a manly Suffering as his
was.

They went on therefore after this a good way
further, talking of Christian and Faithful, and how
Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that
Faithful was dead.

Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre,
where the Silver-mine was, which took Demos off
from his Pilgrimage, and into which, as some think.
By-ends fell and perished; wherefore they con-
sidered that. But when they were come to the old
Monument that stood over against the Hill Lucre,
to wit, to the Pillar of Salt that stood also within
view of Sodom and its stinking Lake, they marvelled,
as did Christian before, that men of that Knowledge
and ripeness of Wit as they was, should he so
blinded as to turn aside here. Only they considered
ag^n that Nature is not affected with the Harms
that others have met with, especially if that thing
upon which they look has an attracting vcrtue upon
the foolish eye.

I saw now that they went on till they came at

4
4

4
4

4

4

PROGRESS

289

iver that was on this side of the Delectable Firn
Mountains. To the River where the fine Trees"''
grow on both sides, and whose Leaves, if taken
inwardly, are good against Surfeits, where the Mead-
ows are green all the year long, and where they
ight lie down safely.

By this River side in the Meadow there were
otes and Folds for Sheep, an House built for the
nourishing and bringing up of those Lambs, the
Babes of those Women that go on Pilgrimage,
AJso there was here one that was intrusted with
them who could have Compassion, and that could
gather these Lambs with his Arm and carry them
in his Bosom, and that could gently lead those that
were with young. Now to the care of this Man,
Christiana admonished her four Daughters to com-
mit their little ones, that by these Waters they might
be housed, harboured, su eke red, and nourished,
and that none of them might be lacking in time
to come. This Man, If any of Ihera go astray or be
lost, he will bring them again: he will also bind up
that which was broken, and will strengthen them
that are sick. Here they will never want Meat
and Drink and Cloathlng, here they will be kept
from Thieves and Robbers, for this Man will die
before one of those committed to his trust shall
be lost. Besides, here they shall be sure to have
good Nurture and Admonition, and shall be taught
to walk in right paths, ant! that you know is a
Favour of no small account. Also here, as you see,
are delicate Waters, pleasant Meadows, dainty Flow-
ers, variety of Trees, and such as bear whole-
some Fruit, Fruit not like that that Matthew eat
of, that fell over the Wall out of Beelsebub's Garden,
but Fruit that procureth Health where there is
none, and that continueth and increaseth it where
it is.

So they were content to commit their little ones
to him ; and that which was also an encouragement
tg them BO to do, vaa, for that all this was to

aO— Vol. IB— 10

Put,

ISO

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

be at the Charge of the King, and so was aS
Hospital for young Children and Orphans,
FimpBrt, J^Jo^^, they went on; and when they were come to
''■ "^ By-path Meadow, to the Stile over which Chrii-
tian went with his Fellow Hopeful, when they were
They taken by Giant Despair and put into Doubting

i"ay™b Castle, ihey sat down and consulted what was best
Biile. hilt to be done ; to wit, now they were so strong, and
b^'ft*" ^^^ S*'t ^"^'' * '"^" ^* ^^ Great-heart for their
pluck wiib Conductor, whether they had not best make an
Deraair a"empt Upon the Giant, demolish his Castle, and
if there were any Pilgrims in it, to set them at
liberty before they went any further. So one said
one thing, and another said the contrary. One
questioned if it was lawful to go upon ttnconsecroled
ground, another said they might provided their end
was good, but Mr Great-heart said, Though that
Assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet
I have a Commandment to resist Sin, to overcome
Evil, to fight the good Fight of Faith, and I pray,
with whom should I fight this good Fight, if not
with Giant Despair? I will therefore attempt the
taking away of his Life, and the demolishing of
Doubting Castle. Then said he, who will go with
me ? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will we
too, said Christiana's four Sons, Matthea/ Sam-
uel James and Joseph, for they were young men
and strong. So they left the Women in the Road,
and wilh them Mr Feeble-mind and Mr Ready-io-
kalt with his Crutches to be their Guard, until they
came back; for in that place, tho* Giant Despair
dwelt so near, they keeping in the Road, 3 little
Child might lead them.

So Mr Great-hearl, old Honest and the fo
young men went to go up to Doubling Castle to look
for Giant Despair. When they came at the Castle-
gate, they knocked for entrance with an unusual
Noise. At that the old Giant comes to the Gate,
and Diifidence his Wife follows. Then said lie,
Who and what is he that is so hardy as after thiSj

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

291

I

manner to molest the Giant Despair? Mr Great-
heart replied, It is I, Great-heart, one of the King
of the Ccelestial Country's Conductors of Pilgrims
to their place, and I demand of thee that thou open
thy Gates for my Entrance. Prepare thyself also
to fight, for I am come to take away thy Head, and
to demolish Doubting Castle.

Now Giant Despair, hecause he was a Giant,
thought no man could overcome him; and again,
thought he, since heretofore I have made a Conquest
of Angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid? So
he harnessed himself and went out. He had a Cap
of Steel upon his Head, a Breast-plate of Fire
girded to him, and he came out in Iron Shoes, with
a great Club in his Hand Then these six men
tnade up to him, and beset him behind and before.
Also when Diffidence the Giantess came up to help
him, old Mr Honest cut her down at one Blow.
Then they fought for their Lives, and Giant Despair
was brought down to the Ground, but was very loth
to die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say,
as many Lives as a Cat, but Great-heart was his
Death, for he left him not till he had severed his
Head from his Shoulders.

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle,
and that you know might with ease be done since
Giant Despair was dead. They were seven days
in destroying of that; and in it of Pilgrims they
found one Mr Dispondency, almost starved to Death,
and one Much-afraid his Daughter; these two they
saved alive. But it would a made you a wondered
to have seen the dead Bodies that lay here and
there in the Castle-yard, and how full of dead raen'3
Bones the Dungeon was.

When Mr Great-heart and his Companions had
performed this exploit, they took Mr Dispondency
and his Daughter Much-afraid into their protection,
for they were honest people tho' they were Prisoners
in Doubting Castle to that Tyrant Giant Despair.
They therefore I say, took with them the Head of

DcBpsir
haa

overcome
angels

Despair
is loatb
to die

Doubting
demolished

They hive
music and
dancing
for joy

nuasurs progress

tbe Goat {fot Uf Bodjr tbey had buried onder
bc*p oi Smxms) and don to lh« Road and to tfadr
ONOfMstet tfecy cane, and sfarwed liiem what iliey
had 4Mib Miaw vAcb Ftrbie-mind and Ready-
(*slntt 9w« Aftt it was tk« Head of Giant Despair
il»fcd>t Umv w«t« ««ry jocund and merr}-. Now
Ckrviiama, H aecd vaf^ could play upon the Vial,
and ba Oaaghaer Menj upon tbe Lute : so since
tkc7 were aa ncfrr dbposed. she played them a
Lean^ and Ittm^m fcaft wcoM dance So lie
took ri>^MJ»cy> T1a«thtii ttamed Muck-afraid
V t^ k)^ »d ■» <kMaiK *)*? vrent in the Road.
"nwe he cooU aat ikaee widKmt one Crutch in his
1md4 boi I fnmx yvt he fooled it well. Also the
Gill was t» ba tOBBOidcd, for she answered the
Mastdt hinwMwtly.

A3 for Mr Diafam i tmcj. tbe Musick was not
nwch to hM^ b» was for feeding rather than danc-
ing for ^at he was ahwosi starved. So Christiana
gave him swae of her Bottle oS Spirits for present
relief, utd thta pcffand him wwihing to eat ; and
in little doM tlw oU GentkniBa came to himself.
aid htgaa to br finely renved.

Now 1 saw in my Dresia, when a9 these things
were fioishctt Ur Grtal-htmrt took tbe Head of
Qant Dw^oir, tad set it ^on a Pole bir tbe Higli-

■ polar tiiat Christian

way!

riRhti

agaiBsci

erected for a Caurioa to mgrtms that came after,
to t^cc be^ of eaterbg into lus grounds.

Ite^ CmMnc Ctatle be dtmoBabed,
Aad tfee Gaat OMpor hath kat Ui Hod,
Sta CM Rb«M Ike CafOt. waket reotthi.
Aad wafce O w N*" Am GiMt llie w^a.

Then he writ under it mpau a Uarhle-stooe these
verses followu^:

TUc is the Read of Km. whMC Nunc only
la (oxset tiMei 4U Ptipias tettifr.
Bis CaMk*! dtMrik aad IMSAnw* Iia Wife
BrsT< ItMCer Qmf^ev* hw Wfctt of Life.
SMiltrndner. Us DmiH» M a t* af 'm i.

4

4

TRIM'S PROGREffl

Creat-hcarl for them also the Man has pJay'A
Who hereof doubts, if be'lJ but cast bis eye
Up hither, tiiay bis scruples satisfy :
This Head also, when doubting Cripples dancer
Doth shew from' Fears they have Deliverance.

r

When these men had thus bravely shewed them-
selves against Doubling Castle, and had slain Giant
Despair, they went forward, and went on till they
came to the Delectable Moimtains, where Christian
and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties
of the place. They also acquainted themselves with
the Shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they
had done Christian before, unto the Delectable
Mountains.

Now the Shepherds seeing so great a Train fol-
low Mr Great-heart, (for with him they were well
acquainted) they said unto him, Good Sir. you have
got a goodly Company here, pray where did you find

1 these?

Then Mr Great-heart replied,

First here is Christiana and her Train,

Her Sons, and her Sons' Wives, who like tbe Woln,

Keep by the Pole, and do by Compass steer

From Sin to Grace, else they had not been here;

Neit here's old Honest come on Pilgrimage,

Ready-IO-hall too, who I dare engage

True-bcarted is, and so is Feeble-mind,

Who willing was not to be left behind;

Dispondency, goad man, is coming after,

And so also is Much-afraid his Daughter.

May we have cnlertainment here, or must

We further go ? Let's know whereon to trust.

The
Guide's

to the
Shepherds

EThen said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable Their
Cotnpany. You are welcome to us, for we have enter,
comfort for the feeble as for the strong. Our
Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of
these, therefore Infirmity must not be a block to
our Entertainment. So they had them to the Palace
door, and then said unto them, Come in Mr Fecble-
.mind. Come in Mr Ready-to-kalt, Come in Mr

lammeni

PILGHIH'S PROGRESS

thcpherdi

Shtei^

Dispondeney, and Mr Much-afraid his Daughti
These, Mr Great-heart, said the Shepherds to the
Guide, we call in by name, for that they are most
subject to draw back, but as for you and the rest
that are strong, we leave you to your wonted Lib-
erty. Then said Mr Greal-hcarl, This day I see
that Grace doth shine in your Faces, and that you
are my Lord's Shepherds indeed; for tliat you have
not pushed these diseased neither with Side nor
Shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into
the Palace with Flowers, as you should.

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr Great-
heart and the rest did follow. When they were
also set down, the Shepherds said to those of t'le
weakest sort. What is it that you would have ? for,
said they, all things must be managed here to the
supporting of the weak, as well as tlie wanting of
the unruly.

So they made them a Feast of things easy of
Digestion, and that were pleasant to the Palate, and
nourishing; the which when they had received, they
went to the Rest, each one respectively imto his
proper place. When Morning was come, be'ause
the Mountains were high, and the day clear, and
because it was the custom of the Shepherds to shew
to the Pilgrims before their departure, some Rari-
ties; therefore after they were ready, and had
refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out
into the Fields, and shewed them first what they
had shewed to Christian before.

Then they had them to some new places. The
first was to Mount Marvel, where they looked, and
beheld a man at a distance, that tumbled the Hills
about with Words. Then they asked the Shepherds
what that should mean? So they told them, that
that man was the Son of one Greatgrace, of whom
FiistPirt, y^'' ""^s*^ '1 ^^^ First Part of the Records of the
V- 'JO Pilgrim's Progress. And he is set there to teach
Pilgrims how to believe down or to tumble out of
their ways what Difficulties they shall meet with,

MounC
Mar*el

PILGRIM'S

»
^

^

by Faith. Then said Mr Creat-hqart, I know him,
be is a man above many.

Then they had them to another place called Mount Mount
Innocent, and there they saw a man doathed all in ^°^°='=°*
White, and two men Prejudice ajid lll-xvill con-
tinually casting Dirt upon him. Now behold the
Dirt whatsoever they cast at him would in a little
time fall off again, and his Garment would look as
clear as if no Dirt had been cast thereat.

Then said the Pilgrims, What means this? The
Shepherds answered. This man is named Godty-
man, and this Garment is to shew the Innocency
of his life. Now those tliat throw Dirt at him, are
Buch as bate his well-doing, but as you see the Dirt
will not stiok upon his Cloaths, so it shall be with
him that Uveth truly innocently in the World. Who-
ever they be that would make such men dirty, they
labour all in vain; for God, by that a tittle time
is spent, will cause that their Innocence shall break
forth as the Light, and their Righteousness as the
Noon-day.

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Mount
Charity, where they shewed them a man that had Clarity
a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he
cut Coats and Garments for the Poor that stood
about him; yet his Bundle or Roll of Qoth was
never the less.

ITien said they. What should this be? This is.
said the Shepherds, to shew you, that he that has
a heart to give of his Labour to the Poor, shall ^
never want where-withal. He that watereth shall
be watered himself. And the Cake that the Widow
gave to the Prophet did not cause that she had
ever the less in her Barrel.

They had them also to a place where they saw The work
one Foel and one Want-wit washing of an Ethi- p^"""
opian with intention to make him white, but the andma
more they washed him the blacker he was. They Wam-wit
then asked the Shepherds what that should mean.
iSo they told them, saying. Thus shall it be with the

•m

PROGRESS

Merer hu
B mind to
tet the

liok tD
thchiU

Finl Part.

p. 126

UcrC7

longelb,
and for
Wlut

vile person. AH means used to get such an one
a good name shall in conclusion tend but to make
bim more abominable. Thus it was with the
Pharisees, and so shall it be with all Hypocrites, ^j

Then said Mercy the Wife of Matthew to Ckris- ^|
tiana her Mother, Mother, I would, if it might ™
be, see the Hole in the Hill, or that commonly called
the By-way to Hell. So her Mother brake her
mind lo the Shepherds. Then they went to the
Door. It was in the side of a Hill, and tliey opened
it, and Bid Mercy hearken awhile. So she heark-
ened, and heard one saying. Cursed be my Father
for holding of my feel back from the way of Peace
and Life; and another said. O thai J had been torn
in pieces before I had. to save my Life, lost my
Soul; and another said, // / were to live again, how
would I deny myself, rather than come lo this place.
Then there was as if the very Earth had groaned
and quaked under the feet of this young Woman for
fear. So she looked while, and came trembling
away, saying. Blessed be he and she that is de-
livered from this place.

Now when the Shepherds had shewed them allj
tiiese things, then they had them back to the Palace,
and entertained them with what the house would
afford. But Mercy being a young and breeding
Woman, longed for something that she saw there,
but was ashamed to ask. Her Mother-in-law then
asked her what she ailed, for she looked as one noi
well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass
hangs up in the Dining-room, off of which I can
not take my mind, if therefore I have it not, 1 think
I shall miscarry. Then said her Mother, I will
mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will
not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed tliat
these men should know that I longed. Nay my
Daughter, said she, it is no Shame, but a Vertue,
to long for such a thing as that. So Mercy said.
Then Mother, if you please, ask the Shepherds if
they are willing to sell it.

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

297

^
I

Now the Glass was one of a thousand. It would ii was
'present a man, one way, with his own Feature ex- ^'(^J""*
actly, and, turn it but another way, and it would
shew one the very Face and Similitude of the
Prince of Pilgrims himself. Yea I have talked
with them that can tell, and they have said that
they have seen the very Crown of Thorns upon his
Head, by looking in that Glass, they have therein
also seen the Holes in his Hands, in his Feel, and
his Side, Yea such an excellency is there in that
Glass, that it will shew him to one where they have
a mind to see him, whether living or dead, whether
in Earth or Heaven, whether in a state of Humil-
iation or in his Exaltation, whether coming to
Suffer or coming to Reign.

^ Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart First Pait,
(now the names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, ^ "^
Experience, Watchful, and Sincere) and said unto
them, There is one of my Daughters, a breeding
Woman, that I think doth long for something she
hath seen in this house, and she think? she sha!l
miscarry if she should by you be denied.

Experience. Call her, call her, she shall as- She doth
suredly have what we can help her to. So they not lose
called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is that longing
thing thou wouldest have? Then she blushed, and
said. The great Glass that liangs up in the Dining-
room. So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a
joyful consent it was given Iier. Then she bowed
her head, and gave thanks, and said. By this I know
that I have obtained favour in your eyes.

They also gave to the other young Women sucli
things as they desired, and to their Husbands great
Commendations for that they joined with Mr Great-
hearl to the slaying of Giant Despair and the de-
molishing of Doubting Castle.

About Christiana's Neck the Shepherds put a Sow the
Bracelet, and so they did about the Necks of her Shtpherds

.-, . . . ■.-. - • < ■ adorn 'lie

four Daughters, also they put Ear-rings in their piigrimi
Ts, and Jewels on their Fore-heads.

296

PILGRIM'S pnOGRESS

First Part,
p. 117

First Part,

Pint Put,
P.1J9

Hnw one
Turn -away
maaa£Fd
bis
apotlacT

When they were minded to go hence, they let
them go in peace, but gave not to them those certain
Cautions which before were given to Christian and
his Companion. The reason was for that these
had Great-heart to be their Guide, who was one that
was well acquainted with things, and so could
give them their Cautions more seasonably, to wit,
even then when the Danger was nigh the approach-
ing.

What Cautions Christian and his Companions had
received of the Shepherds, they had also lost by that
the time was come that they had need to put them
in practice. Wlierefore here was the advantage that
this Company had over the other.

From hence they went on singing, and they said.

Behold, how fitly ate the stages set
For their ReUef that Pilgrims are become;
And how they us receive without one let.
That make the other life our mark and home I
What Novelties they have to us they give.
That we, tho' Pilgrims, joyful lives may live i
They do upon us loo such things bestow.
That shew we Pilgrims are nhere'er we go.

When they were gone from the Shepherds, they
quickly came to the place where Christian met with
one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of Aposlacy.
Wherefore of him Mr Great-heart their Guide did
now put Ihem in mind, saying. This is the place
where Christian met with one Turn-away, who car-
ried with him the character of his Rebellion at his
back. And this I have to say concerning this man.
he would hearken to no counsel, but once a falling,
persuasion could not stop him.

When he came to the place where the Cross
and the Sepulchre was. he did meet with one that did
hid him look there; but he gnashed with his teeth,
aiid stamped, and said he was resolved to go back
to his own Town, Before he came to the Gate, he
met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on
him to turn Mm into the way again. But this

I

4

4
4

PJLGRIM'S PROGRESS

299

One
\'aliaiii-
for-iruih
beset with
thieves

Turn-aivay resisted him, and having done much
despite unto him, he got away over the Wail, and
so escaped his hand.

Then they went on ; and just at the place where
Little-faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man
with his Sword drawn, and his Face all bloody.
Then said Mr Great-heart, What art thou ? The
man made answer, saying, I am one whose name is
, Voliant'for-truth. I am a Pilgrim, and am going
Ito the Ccelestial City. Now as I was in my way,
there were three men did beset me and propounded
unto me these three things: i. Whether I would be-
come one of them? 2, Or go back from whence
I came? 3. Or die upon the place? To the first
I answered, I had been a true man a long season,
and therefore it could not be expected that I now
[should cast in my Lot with Thieves. Then they
' demanded what I would say to the second. So I
told them that the place from whence I came, had
I not found Incommodity there, I had not forsaken
it at all ; but finding it aUogether unsuitable to rae,
and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this
way. Then they asked me what I said to the third.
And I told them, My life cost more dear far than
that I should lightly give it away. Besides, yoM
have nothing to do thus to put things to my Choice,
■wherefore at your Peril be it if you meddle. Then
these three, to wit IVild-head, Inconsiderate and
Prngmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew upon

I them.
So we fell to it, one against three, for the space
c£ above three hours. They have left upon me,
as you see, some of the marks of their Valour, and
have also carried away with them some of mine.
They are hut just now gone. I suppose they might,
as the saying is, hear your Horse dash, and so they
betook them to flight.

Great-heart. But here was great odds, three Crcat-hean
.against one. — "

.Valiant. 'Tis true, but little or more are nothing vaiout

Flow he
bchavL'd
hlmEtlf,
nnd put
thrin id
flight

300

PILGRIlirS PROGRESS

The Word

The Faith
Blood

to him that has the Truth on his side. Tko' an
Host encamp against me, said one, my heart shaH
not fear; tho' War should rise against me, in this
uill I be consent, &c. Besides, saith he, I have
read in some Records, that one man has fought an
Army; and how many did Samson slay with the
Jaw-bone of an Ass?

Great-heabt. Then said the Guide, Why did you
not cry out, that some might a come in for your
succour?

Valiant, So I did, to my King, who I knew
could hear, and afford invisible help, and that was
sufficient for me.

Great-heart. Then said Great-heart to Mr Val-
iant'for-trxtth. Thou hast worthily behaved thyself.
Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it hira.
When he had taken it in his hand, and looked there-
on a while, he said, Ha, it is a right Jerusalem
Blade.

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these
Blades, with a Hand to wield it and Skill to use
it, and he may venture upon an Angel with it. He
need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to
lay on. Its edges will never blunt. It will cut
flesh and bones and soul and spirit and all.

Great-heart. But you fought a great whiles
I wonder you was not weary.

Valiant. I fought till my Sword did cleave to
my Hand; and when they were joined together,
as if a Sword grew out of my Arm, and when the
Blood ran through my Fingers, then I fought with
most courage.

Great-heart. Thou hast done well. Thou hast
resisted unto Blood, striving against Sin, Thou
shalt abide hy us, come in and go out with us, fof
we are thy Companions,

Then they took him and washed his Wounds, and
gave him of what they had to refresh him, and so
they went on together. Now as they went on,
because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him (for

I
I

4

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

an

I

tie loved one greatly that lie found to be a man
oi his hands) and because there were with his Com-
pany them that was feeble and weak, therefore he
questioned with him about many things, as first,
what Country-man he was?

Valiant. I am of Dark-land, for there I was
born, and there my Father and Mother are still.

Great-heart. Dark-land, said the Guide, doth
not that He upon the same Coast with the City of
Deslniction^

Valiant. Yes it doth. Now that which caused How Mr
me to come on Pilgrimage was this ; we had one ^^"l
Mr Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it bq on
about what Christian had done, that went from the pi'^ninage
City of Destruction, namely, how he had forsaken
his Wife and Children, and had betaken himself to
a Pilgrim's life. It was also confidently reported
how he had killed a Serpent that did come out to
resist him in his Journey, and how he got through
to whither he intended. It was also told what Wel-
come he had at all his Lord's Lodgings, especially
when he came to the Gates of the Ccelestial City,
for there, said the man, he was received with sound
of Trumpet by a company of Shining Ones. He
told it also, how all the Bells in the City did ring
for Joy at his reception, and what Golden Garments
he was cloathed with, with many other things that
now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man
so told the story of Christian and his Travels, that
my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after
him, nor could Father or Mother stay me : so I got
from them, and am come thus far on my way.

Great-heart, Yoti came in at tiie Gate, did you
not?

Valiant- Yes, yes, for the same man also told He begins
us that all would be nothing, it we did not begin "^ '
to enter this way at the Gate.

Great-heart. Look you, said the Guide to Ckris- Chrisiian'»
tiana, the Pilgrimage of your Husband, and what he ^^^^^
has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.

ntoKnrs frogSrs

Bcbi

Vauakt. >Mit, if eas Christiam's wife?

GasAt-scAkT. Vn, thai u is, and these are also
ha iem Sons.

Vauavt. Wbsl. and ^orag on Pitgrimage too?

GtKAt-BtAXT. Vcs Tcrilf tbej are following
after.

t Vauaitt. It glads me at bean. Good man, fiow
jogrfiil wiQ he be when he sliall see them that woold
Tiiiiii„-| BM go vidi him. jre( to cnKr after him in at the
^fc Caies iBto the Ct;.

QtEAt'BtAMT. WttOMt dcN^K H witi be a comfort
•b Uai: for next to titc Jot of seeing hirosdf there,
it win be a joy to meet there his Wife and his
Ouldren.

Vauakt. But BOW 70a are vpoo that, pray let me
bear yoar Of tini on aboift it Scene make a question,
WTieibcT we shall know one another when we arc
there?

Great-beam-. Do they thtnfc they shall know
themselves then, or that they shall rejoice to see
tbeni5el>-es in that Bliss? and if they think they
shall know ami do these, why not know others, and
rejoice in their Welfare also?

Again, stnee Relations are onr second self, though
ttat state will be dbsotrcd there, >-et why may it not
be rationally conchidcd that we shall be more glad
to sec tbem there than to see they are wanting?

\'.MIAKT. Well. I perceive whereabouts you are
as to this. Hare yon any more things to ask me
about my beginning to come on Pilgrimage?

GaKAT-QCART. Yes. Was your Father and Mother
vining that you should become a Pilgrim?

Vauant. Oh no. They used all means imagin-
able to persuade me to star at home.

Great-heast. What cooW they against it?

Variant. They said it was an tJte life, and If
I myself were not inclined to Sloth and Laziness,
I would never countenance a Pilgrim's condition.

Great-heart. And what did they say dse?

Vauant. Why, they told me that it was a daa-

■n* rrcM

ttombllBg-
blodatliit
br bii
frifnds
■wtn laid
mhiswar

I
I

I

PILGHIJrS PROGRESS

303

I
I

4

I

g«rous way; yea, the most dangerous way in the
World, said they, is that which the Pilgrims go,

Great-heaxt. Did they shew wherein this way
is so dangerous ?

Valiant. Yes, and that in many particidars.

Gkeat-heart. Name some of them.

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of OiV The first
pond, where Citrislian was well nigh smothered. ""mhiinB-
They told me that there were Archers standing
ready in Beelzebub-castle to shoot them that should
Ifliock at the Wicket*gate for entrance. They told
me also of the Wood and dark Mountains, of the
Hill Difficulty, of the Lions, and also of the three
Giants, Bloody-man, Maul and Slay-good. They said
moreover that there was a foul Fiend haunted the
Valley of Humiliation, and that Christian was by
him almost bereft of Life. Besides, say they, you
must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
where the Hobgoblins are, where the Light is
Darkness, where the way is full of Snares, Pits,
Traps, and Gins. They told me also of Giant De-
spair, of Doubting Castle and of the ruin that the
Pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must
go over the Inchanted Ground, which was dan-
gerous. And that after all this, I should find a
River, over which I should find no Bridge, and that
that River did lie betwixt me and the Coelestial
Country.

Great-heart. And was this all?

Valiant. No. They also told me that this wajThe
was full of Deceivers, and of persons that laid second
await there, to turn good men out of the Path.

Great-heart. But how did they make that out?

Valiant. They told me that Mr Worldly Wise-
man did there lie in wait to deceive. They also
said that there was Formality and Hypocrisy con-
tinually on the road. They said also that By-etids,
Talkative or Demas would go near to gather me up,
that the Flatterer would catch me in his Net, or that
with green-headed Ignorance I would presume to go

3M

PILGTinrS PROGRESS

■ lUrd

tui to the Gate, ftom wbeiice he always was sent
hack to the Hole that was in the side of the Hill,
and made to go tbc By-waj to Hell.

Gkeat-hcabt. I promise yon this was enoogfa to
discourage, but did they make ao end here?

Valiaxt. Xo, slay. They told me also of many
that had tiicd that way of old, aod that had gooe
a great way therein, to see if they could find some-
thing of the Glory there that so many had so much
talked of from time to time; and how they came
back again, and befooled themselves for setting a
foot out of doors in that Path, to the satisfaction of
all the Country. And they named several that did
so, as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous,
TumazLVy and old Atheist, with several more, who,
they said, had some of them gone far to see if they
could find, but not one of them found so much ad-
vantage by going as amounted to the weight of a
Feather.

GBEAT-HBAitT. Said they anything more to dis-
courage you?
TIk fourth Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fear-
ing who was a Pilgrim, and how he found this way
so solitary that he never had comfortable hour
therein. Also that Mr Dispondeticy had like to
have been starved therein; yea, and also, which
I had almost forgot, that Christian himself, about
whom there has been such a noise, after all his
ventures for a Ctrl est ial Crown, was certainly
drowned in the black River, and never went foot
further, however it was smothered up.

Gkeat-heaht. And did none of these things dis-
courage you?

Valiant. No, they seemed but as so many noth-
ings to me.

Great-heart, How came that about?

Valiant. Why I sfill believed what Mr Tell-true
had said, and that carried me beyond them all.

GsEAT-HEART. Then this was your Victory, even
your Faith.

Haw be
got over

thetc

stninhling.

blocks

i

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 305

. Valiant. It was so; I believed, and therefore
came out, got into the Way, fought all that set
themselves against me, and by believing am come
to this place.

Who would True vaIo-ir lee,
Let him come hither;
One here will constant be.
Come Wind, come Weather.
There's no Discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avow'd intent
To be a Pilurim.

Who so beset him round
With dismal Stories,
Do but themselves confound.
His Strength the more is;
No Lion can him frigbt.
He'll with a Giant fight,
But he will have a right
To be a Pilgrim.

Hobgoblin nor foul Fiend
Can daunt his spirit;
He knowa he at the end
Shall Life inherit.
Then Fancies fiy away,
He'll fear not what men say.
He'll labour ni^t and day
To be a Pilgrim.

By this time they were got to the Inchanted First Far^
Ground, where the air naturally tended to make one ^ '*°
drowsy, and that place was ail grown over with
Briars and Thorns, excepting here and there where
was an Inchanted Arbor, upon which if a man sits,
or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis a question, say
some, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in
fliis world. Over this Forest therefore they went,
both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went
before for that he was the Guide, and Mr Valiant-
' far-truth he came behind, being there a Guard for
fear lest peradventure some Fiend or Dragon or
Giant or Thief should fall upon their Rear, and
so do mischief. They went on here each man with
his Sword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

An wbor
on the
Inchanled
Ground

a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one an-
other as well as they conld; feeble-mind, Mr
Great-heart commanded should come up after him,
and Mr Dispondency was under the eye of Mr
Valiant.

Now they had not gone far, but a great Mist and
a Darkness fell upon them all, so that they could
scarce for a great while see the one the other.
Wherefore they were forced for some time to feel
for one another by Words, for they walked not by
Sight

But any one must think that here was but sorry
going for the best of them all, but how much worse
for the Women and Children, who both of feet
and heart were but tender. Yet so it was. that
through the encouraging words of him that led in
the front, and of him that brought them up behind,
they made a pretty good shift to wag along.

The way also was here very wearisome through
Dirt and Slabbiness. Nor was there on all this
ground so much as one Inn or Victualling-house,
therein to refresh the feebler sort. Here therefore
was grunting and puffing and sighing. While one
tumbieth over a Bush, another sticks fast in the
Dirt; and the Children, some of them, lost their
Shoes in the Mire. While one cries out, I am dowB ;
and another. Ho, where are you? and a third. The
Bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think I
cannot get away from them.

Then they come at an Arbor, warm, and promis-
ing much refreshing to the Pilgrims; for it was
finely wrought above head, beautified with Greens,
furnished with Benches and Settles. It also had in
it a soft Couch whereon the weary might lean. This
you must think, all things considered, was tempting,
for the Pilgrims already began to be foiled with
the badness of the way. but there was not one of
them that made so much as a motion to stop there.
Yea, for ought I could perceive, they continually
gave so good heed to the advice of their Guide, sad

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

307

I

»

lie did so faithfully tell them of Dangers, and of the
nature of Dangers, when they were at them, that
usually when they were nearest to them they did
most pluck up their Spirits, and hearten one another
to deny the Flesh. This Arbor was called the The name
Slothful'a Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might 2^^'
be, some of the Pilgrims there to take up their
Rest when weary,

I saw then in my Dream, that they went on in this The way
their solitary ground, till they came to a place at J"*!?^"
which a man is apt to lose his way. Now tho' when
it was light, their Guide could well enough tell how
to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark
he was put to a stand; but he had in his Pocket a
Map of all ways leading to or from the Coslestial Thesuide
City; wherefore he struck a Light (for he never iiasamBp
goes also without his Tinder-box) and takes a view "eading lo^
of his Book or Map, which bids him be careful in or from
that place to turn to the right-hand way. And ^"*^
had he not here been careful to look in his Map,
they had all in probability been smothered in the
Mud, for just a little before them, and that at the
end of the cleanest way too, was a Pit, none knows
how deep, full of nothing but Mud, there made
on purpose to destroy the Pilgrims in.

Then thought I with myself, who that goedi on God's
Pilgrimage but would have one of these Maps about ^•^^
him. that he may look when he is at a stand, which
is the way he must take?

They went on then in this Inchanted Ground till An »rbor
they came to where there was anotlier Arbor, and 3"]^^""
it was built by the High-way side. And in that therein
Arbor there lay two men whose names were Heed'
less and Too-bold. These two went thus far on Pil-
grimage, but here being wearied with their Journey,
they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell asleep.
When the Pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and
shook their heads, for they knew that the sleepers
were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what
to do, whether to go on and leave them in their

(Cor Ac I

ttm. Tbca niAtmt vi

Head. ImOti^mU
immykamt,audAt<

n^ said CtrufMM^ Whx is Oe
tttf? Tfe Gmle nid, 7V^ Ai> •■

4b» Aa^ A^ wBannrer jm zittr Aa
■r » «De of tficBi Bid ID old ome, «tea the Warn
tf dK Sea «d beu tym Uo, a^ he dcpt as OK
m^ ^Uast of tSt^WhtmlmmAt I wOItnt
a 4CaB- Voa kaow wfeca ■» tak m Oku- Sfeqs
B^ Mjp ^ujuuB^ vtf nut vutiB src noc pw-
br FaiA or »*«" Then is aa
IB Anr woiA worn, a> Aetie w>9 before
■LtBiiit AciT goMM^ CM P^gnBagc and fitting down
hct£. This titm ia Ac ij^fct-f on't, when ketJUa
^■es go ca P{%iiiBice 'tis Lwcuiv to one bnt &kj
mn served A^ Fv Ais *imWmmmI Gnnmd is one
ot Ae h» Bit^ti di« Ac E^My to ragiims has;
w b o efa ce it i^ *s tcm see, fbetd almost at Ae
ad of the W^, and ss it itj a A i h against us wiA
Ter wbo^ dunks the Enemy,
«3I Aese Fools he as *"'™ to sit down, as
aod when so like to be
JoDinejr's end?
Indanted Ground is
and so near the
Fflgrims look to
Aem as it has done

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

309

: see, are fallen asleep, and none

I
I

to these, that, as you
can wake them.

Then the Pilgrims desired with trembling to go
forward; only they prayed their Guide to strike a
Light, that they might go the rest of their way
by the help of the Light of a Lanthom. So he
struck a Light, and they went by (he help of that
through the rest of this way, tho' the Darkness was
verj' great.

But the Children began to be sorely weary, and
they cried out unto him that loveth Pilgrims to make
their way more comfortable. So by that they had
gone a little further, a Wind arose that drove away
the Fog, so the Air became more clear.

Yet they were not off (by much) of the Inchanted
Ground, only now they could see one another better,
and the way wherein they should walk.

Now when they were almost at the end of this
ground, they perceived that a little before them
was a solemn Noise, as of one that was much con-
cerned. So they went on and looked before them;
and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon
his Knees, with Hands and Eyes lift up, and speak-
ing, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above.
They drew nigh, hut could not tell what he said;
so they went softly till he had done. When he had
done, he got up and began to run towards the Cceles-
tial City. Then Mr Great-heart called after him,
saying, Soho Friend, let us have your Company, if
yoB go, as I suppose you do, to the Ccelestial City.
So the man stopped, and they came up to him. But
so soon as Mr Honest saw him, he said. I know this
man. Then said Mr Valiant-for-trufh, Prithee,
who is it? 'Tis one, said he, who comes from
whereabouts I dwelt, liis name is Stand-fast, he is
certainly a right good Pilgrim.

So they came up one to another ; and presently
Stand-fast said to old Honest, Ho Father Honest.
are you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as
you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr Stand-

The ligil
at the
Word

Tho
children
cry for
wcorincss

SUnd-fait
upan his
kxtcee in
tbE En-
chanted
grouad

The
story of
Staiid-faat

Talk he-
twcE^n him
and Mr
Ilooeat

tto

They

found
him at

prayer

What il

fetched
him upon
his kntcfl

Madam
Bubble, ur
this vaia
world

PTLGRIWS PROGHESS

fast, that I have found you on this Road. And as
glad am I, said (he other, that I espied you upon
your Knees. Then Mr Stand-fast blushed, and said.
But why, did you see me? Yes, that I did, quodi
the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight,
Why, what did you think? said Stand-fast. Think,
said old Honest, what should I think? I thought
we had an honest man upon the Road, and therefore
should have his Company by and by. If you
thought not amiss [said Stand-fast] how happy am
1. hut if I be not as 1 should, I alone must bear it
That is true, said the other, but your fear doth
further confirm me that things are right betwixt the
Prince of .Pilgrims and your Soul, for he saith.
Blessed is the man that feareth always.

Valiant. Well but Brother, I pray thee tell us
what was it that was the cause of thy being upon
thy Knees even now? Was it for that some special
mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how?

Stand-fast. Why we are, as you see, upon the
Inchanted Ground, and as I was coming along, I
was musing with myself of what a dangerous Road
the Road in this place was, and how many that had
come even thus far on Pilgrimage had here been
stopt and been destroyed, I thought also of the
manner of the Death with which this place destroy-
eth men. Those that die here, die of no violent
Distemper. The Death which such die is not griev-
ous to them, for he that goeth away in a sleep
begins that Journey with Desire and Pleasure; yea,
such acquiesce in the will of that Disease.

Hon. Then Mr Honest intemipling of him said.
Did you see the two men asleep in the Arbor?

Stand-past. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold
there, and for ought I know, there they will lie
till they rot. But let me go on in my Tale. As
I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very
pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself unto
me, and offered me three things, to wit, her Body
her Purse and her Bed. Now the truth is, I was

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

III

ft

ft

both a-weary and sleepy, I am also as poor as a
Howlet, and that perhaps the Witch knew. Well
I repulsed her once and twice, but she put by my
repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be angry,
but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she
made offers again, and said, If I would be ruled
by her, she would make me great and happy, for
said she, I am the Mistress of the World, and men
are made happy by me. Then I asked her name,
and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set
me further from her, but she still followed me with
Inticements. Then I betook me, as you see, to
ray Knees, and with hands lift up and cries, I pray'd
to him that had said he would help. So just as you
came up, the Gentlewoman went her way. Then
I continued to give thanks for this my great De-
liverance, for I verily believe she intended no good,
but rather sought to make stop of me in my
Journey.

Hon. Without doubt her Designs were had. But
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have
seen her, or have read some story of her.

Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both,

Hon. Madam Bubble, is she not a tall comely
Dame, something of a swarthy Complexion?

Stand-fast. Rigiit, you hit it, she is just such
an one,

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, "and
give you a Smile at the e*id of a Sentence?

Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for
these are her very Actions.

Hon. Doth she not wear a great Purse hy her
side, and is not her Hand often in it fingering her
Mony, as if that was her heart's delight?

Stand-fast. 'Tis just so; had she stood by all
this while, you could not more amply have set her
forth before me, nor have better described her
Features.

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good
Limner, and he that wrote of her said true.

sa

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

neVatid Gkeat-heakt. Tbis woman b a Witch, and it is
by vertue of her Sorceries that this ground is in-
chanted Whoever doth Uy their Head down in
her Lap, had as good lay it down upon that Block
over which the Ax doth hang; and whoever lay
their Eyes upon her Beauty, are counted the Enemies
of God. This is she that main tain eth in their
splendor all those that are the Ejiemies of Pilgrims.
Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a man
from a Pilgrim's Life. She is a great Gossiper,
she is always, both she and her Daughters, at one
Pilgrim's heels or another, now commending and
then preferring the escellencies of this Life. She
is a bold and impudent Slut, she will talk with
any man. She always laugheth foor Pilgrims to
scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be
one cunning to get Mony in a place, she will speak
well of him from house to house. She loveth Ban-
queting and Feasting mainly well, she is always
at one full Table or another. She has given it out
in some places that she is a Goddess, and therefore
some do worship her. She has her times and open
places of Cheating, and she will say and avow it
that none can shew a good comparable to hers.
She promiseth to dwell with Children's Children,
if they will but love and make much of her. She
will cast out of her Purse Gold like Dust, in some
places, and to some persons. She loves to be sought
after, spoken well of, and to lie in the Bosoms of
Men, She is never weary of commending her
Commodities, and she loves them most that think
best of her. She will promise to some Crowns
and Kingdoms if they will but take her advice, yet
many has she brought to the Halter, and ten thou-
sand limes more to Hell,

Stand-fast. (3h, said Stand-fast, what a mercy
is it that I did resist her, for whither might she
3 drawn me?

Great-heart. Whither, nay, none but God knows
whither. But in general to be sure, she would a

4

I
I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

913

>

I

^rawn thee mto many foolish and hurtful Lusls.
■which drown men iii Destruction and Perdition.

'Twas she that set Absalom against his Father,
and Jeroboam against his Master. 'Twas she that
persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed
with Demos to forsake the godly Pilgrim's Life.
None can tell of the Mischief that she doth. She
makes variance betwixt Rulers and Subjects, betwixt
Parents and Children, 'twixt Neighbor and Neigh-
bor, 'twixt a Man and his Wife. 'twixt a Man and
Himself, 'twixt the Flesh and the Heart,

Wherefore good Master Stattd-fasI, be as your
name is, and when you have done all, stand.

At this Discourse there was among the Pilgrims
a mixture of Joy and Trembling, but at length they
brake out, and sang.

Whal danger is tie Pilgrim in.
How many are his Toes,
How many ways there are to sin,
No living mortal knows.

Some of the Ditch shy are, yet can
Lie tumbling on the Mire:
Some tho' they abun the Frying-pan,
Do leap iato the Fire.

I After this I beheld until they were come unto FitstPart,
the Land of Beulah, where the Sun shineth Night p- 's^
and Day. Here, because they was weary, they
betook themselves a while to rest. And because
this Country was common for Pilgrims, and because
^^ the Orchards and Vineyards that were here belonged
^P to the King of the Ccelestial Country, therefore
^^ they were licensed to make bold with any of his
things. But a little while soon refreshed them here;
for the Bells did so ring, and the Trumpets con-
tinually sound so melodiously, that they could not
sleep; and yet they received as much refreshing as
if they had slept their sleep never so soundly. Here
also all the noise of them that walked the Streets,
was. More Pilgrims are come to Town. And

PILGRIU'S PROGRESS

Dealta

biller lo
the flesb.

10 Ilic soul

Death hai
iti cbbings
and flow-
inas like
tbcEide

Ames-
■engtfr at
death
sent lo
Chiistiuia

soother would answer, saying, And so many
over the Water, and were let in at the Golden Gates
to-day. They would cry again. There is now a
Legion of Shining Ones just come to Town, by
which we know that there are more Pilgrims upon
the road, for here they come to wait for them, and
lo comfort (hera after all their Sorrow. Then the
Pilgrims got up and walked to and fro; hut how
were their Ears now filled with Heavenly Noises,
and their eyes delighted with CaJestial Visions!
In this Land they heard nothing, saw nothing,
felt nothing, ameU nothing, tasted nothing, that
was offensive to their Stomach or Mind; only
when they tasted of the Water of the River over
which they were to go, they thought that tasted a
little bitterish to the Palate, hut it proved sweelel
when 'twas down.

In this place there was a Record kept of the
names of them that had heen Pilgrims of old, and
a History of all the famous Acts that tliey had done.
It was here also much discoursed how the River
to some had had its dowings, and what ebbings it
has had while others have gone over. It has been
in a manner dry for some, while it has oversowed
its banks for others.

In this place the Children of the Town would go
into the King's Gardens and gather Nosegays for
the Pilgrims, and bring them to them with much
affection. Here also grew Camphire with Spike-
nard and Saffron Calamus and Cinnamon, with all
its Trees of Frankincense Myrrh and Aloes, with
all chief Spices, With these the Pilgrim's Cham-
bers were perfumed while they stayed here, and with
these were their Bodies anointed, to prepare them
to go over the River when the time appointed was
come.

Now while they lay here and waited for the good
hour, there was a noise in the Town that there was
a Post come from the Celestial City, with matter
of great importance to one Christiana the Wife

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

915

I

■

I

i
I

of Christian the Pilgrim, So enquiry was made for
her, and the house was found out where she was.
So the Post presented her with a Letter, the con-
tents whereof was. Hail, good tf^oman, I bring thee
Tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and ex-
pectelh that thou shoiildest stand in his presence t«
Ctoaths of Immortality, within this ten days.

When he had read this Letter to her, he gave her
therewith a sure token that he was a true Messenger,
and was come to bid her make haste to be gone.
The token was an Arrow with a point sharpened
with Love, let easily into her heart, which by de-
grees wrought so effectually with her, that at the
time appointed she must be gone.

When Christiana saw that her time was come,
and that she was the first of this Company that
was to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart her
Guide, and told him how matters were. So he told
her he was heartily glad of the News, and could
have been glad had the Post come for him. Then
she bid that he should give advice how all things
should be prepared for her Journey. So he told
her, saying. Thus and thus it must be, and we that
survive will accompany you to the River-side,

Then she called for her Children, and gave them
her Blessing, and told them that she yet read with
comfort the Mark that was set in their Foreheads,
and was glad to see them with her there, and that
they had kept their Garments so white. Lastly, she
bequeathed to the Poor that little she had, and com-
manded her Sons and her Daughters to be ready
against the Messenger should come for them.

When she had spoken these words to her Guide
and to her Children, she called for Mr Valiant-for-
truth, and said unto him. Sir, you have in all places
shewed yourself true-hearted, be faithful unto Death,
and nny King will give you a Crown of Life, I
would also entreat you to have an eye to my Chil-
dren, and if at any time you see them faint, speak
comfortably to them. For ray Daughters, my Sons*

ma

messaffe

How wei-
com? is
death to
them that
bave notH-
ing iQ do
but to die

Her speccli
10 her
guide

To her
childrea

To Mr
Valiant

SIS

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

To Mr
Stand- Cut

TooM
Hcmat

To Mr
Kady-
to-lult

ToDb-

pondency
und h!B
d«uslitcr

To Feebli-
Dnnd

Her last
day, and
iqqnTier of
depBituIe

Wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of
Ihe Promise upon them will be their end. BuE she
gave Mr Stand-fast a Ring.

Then she called for old Mr Honest, and said of
him, Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no
Guile. Tliea said he, I wish you a fair day when
you set out for Mount Sion, and shall be glad to
Bee that you go over the River dry-shod. But she
answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone,
for however the Weather is in my Journey, I shall
have time enough when I come there to sit down
and rest me and dry me.

Then came in that good man Mr Ready-to-halt
to see her. So she said to him, Thy Travel hither
has been with difficulty, but that will make thy
Rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready, for at an
hour when you think not, the Messenger may come.

After him came in Mr Dispondency and his
Daughter Much-afraid, to whom she said. Yob
ought with thankfulness for ever to remember
your Deliverance from the hands of Giant De-
spair and out of Doubling Castle. The effect
of that Mercy is, that you are brought with
safety hither. Be ye watchful and cast away Fear,
be sober and hope lo the end.

Then she said to Mr Fetrblc-mittd, Thou wast de-
livered from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that
thou mightest live in Ihe Light of the Living for
ever, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise
thee to repent thee of thine aptness to fear and
doubt of his goodness before he sends for thee,
lest thou shouldest when he comes, he forced to
stand before him for that fault with blushing.

Now the day drew on that Cbrisliana must be
gone. So the Road was full of People to see her
take her Journey. But behold all the Banks beyond
the River were full of Horses and Chariots, which
were come down from above to accompany her to
the City Gate. So she came forth and entered the
Kivcr, with a beckon of Farewell to those that fol-

I
I

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 317

lowed her to the River-side. The last word she was
heard to say here was. / come Lord, to be with thee

and bless thee.

So her Children and Friends returned to their
place, for that those that waited for Christiana had
carried her out of their sight. So she went and
called, and entered in at the Gate with all the
Ceremonies of Joy that her Husband Christian had
done before her.

At her departure her Children wept, but Mr
Great-heart and Mr Valiant played upon the well-
tuned Cymbal and Harp for Joy. So all departed
to their respective places.

In process of time there catne a Post to the Town Ready-
again, and hi.s business was with Mr Ready-to-halt . '"■''="
So he enquired him out, and said to him. I am
come to lliee in the name of him whom thou hast
loved and followed, tho' upon Crutches; and my
Message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his
Table to sup with him in his Kingdom the next
day after Easter, wherefore prepare thyself for
this Journey.

Then he also gave him a Token that he was a tnie
Messenger, saying, / have broken thy golden bowl,
and loosed thy silver cord.

After this Mr Rcady-to-halt called for his fellow Promises
Pilgrims, and told them, saying. I am sent for. and
God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr His will
Valiant to make his Will. And because he had
nothing to bequeath to them that should survive him
but his Crutches and his good Wishes, therefore ^

thus he said, These Crutches I bequeath to my
Son that shall tread in my steps, with a hundred
^i-arm wishes that he may prove better than I have
done.

Then he thanked Mr Great-heart for his Conduct His last
and Kindness, and so addressed himself to his Jour-
ney. When he came at the Brink of the River he
said. Now I shall have no more need of these

m

Frtble-

mind
lummoned

Re makti
DO (till

His tin

worda

Mr

Dlspcnil-

tncy's
Bummons

Hi.

diughlpr
goea loo

PILGRnrS PROGRESS

CrutchfS, since yonder are Chariots and Horses
for me to ride on. The last words he was heard
to say was. Welcome Life. So he went his way.

After this Mr Feeble-mind had Tidings brought
him that the Post sounded his Horn at his Chamber-
door. Then he came in and lold him, saying, I am
come to tell thee that thy Master has need of tliee,
and that in very little lime thou must behold his
Face in Brightness, And take this as a Token of
the Truth of my Message, Those that look out at
fke Windows shall be darkened.

Then Mr Feeble-mind called for his Friends, and
told them what Errand had been brought unto him,
and what Token he had received of the Truth ol
the Message. Then he said, Since I have nothing
to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make
a Will? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave
behind me, for that I have no need of that in the
place whither I go. Nor is it worth bestowing upon
the poorest Pilgrim; wherefore when I am gone,
I desire that you, Mr Valiant, would bury it in a
Dunghill. This done, and the day being come in
which he was to depart, he entered the River as the
rest. His last words were. Hold out Faith and
Patience. So he went over to the other side.

When days had many of them passed away, Mr
Dispondency was sent for. For a Post was come,
and brought this Message to him. Trembling man,
these are to summon thee to be ready -with thy
King by the next Lord's day, to shout for Joy for
thy Deliverance from all thy Doubtings.

And said the Messenger, That my Message is
true take this for a Proof; so he gave him The
Grasshopper to he a Burden unto him. Now Mr
Dispondency's Daughter whose name was Muck-
afraid said when she heard what was done, that
she would go with her Father. Then Mr Dispond-
ency said to his Friends, Myself and my Daughter,
you know what we have been, and how trouble-

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

SU

I
I

somel^ we have behaved ourselves in every Com-
pany. My Will and my Daughter's is, that our His will
Disponds and slavish Fears be by no man ever
received from the day of our Departure for ever,
for I know that after my Death they will offer
themselves to others. For to be plain with you,
they are Ghosts, the which we entertained when we
first began to he Pilgrims, and could never shake
them off after; and they will walk about and seek
eniertainment of the Pilgrims, but for our sakes
shut ye the doors upon them.

When the time was come for them to depart, they
went to the Brink of the River. The last words
of Mr Dispondency were, Farewell Night, welcome
Day. His Daughter went through the River sing-
ing, but none could understand what she said.

HIi laat
wards

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was
a Post in the town that enquired for Mr Honest.
So he came to his house where he was, and delivered
to his hand these lines. Thou art commatidcd to be
ready against this day seven-night to present thy-
self before thy Lord al his Father's house. And
for a Token that my Message is true, All thy
Daughters of Musick shall be brought low. Then
Mr Honest called for his Friends, and said unto
them, I die, but shall make no Will. As for my
Honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes
after be told of this. When the day that he was
to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go
over the River. Now the River at that time over-
flowed the Banks in some places, but Mr Honest
in his lifetime had spoken to one Good-conscience
to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent
him his hand, and so helped him over. The last
words of Mr Honest were, Grace reigns. So he
left the World.

Mr

Honest
aumnioned

He ni»kea
no will

Good-
conscience
helps Mr
HoncBl
D»er ibe
river

After this It was noised abroad that Mr Valianf-
for-trutk was taken with a Summons by the same

Mr Valiant
Eumnioa«d

320

PILGBIM^ PROGHBSS

BUmia

llr Sund.

■UUUDODFQ

forUr

SfMt-

bevt

to bin

Poat at the oiber, and had this for a Token that
the StuRRions was tnie. Thai kit Pilchfr mu broken
at Ike Fountain. When be undersUiod it, be called
for hi» Friends, and told thetn of it. Then said be,
I am going lo my Fathers, and tho' with great diffi-
culty I am got hither, yet now 1 do not repent me
of all the Trouble I have been at to arrirc where I
am. My Sword I give to titm that shall sacceed
mc in my Pilgrima^, and my Courage and Skill 10
him that can get it My Marks and Scars I cany
with me, to be a witness for me that I hare fought
bis Battles who now will be my Rewarder. When
the day that he must go hence was come, many
accompanied him to the River-side, into which as
he went he said. Death, tvhere it thy StingT And
as he went down deeper he said. Crave, where is
Ihy Victory? So he passed over, and all the Trum-
pets sounded for him on the other side.

Then there came forth a Snmmons for Mr Stand-
fati, (This Mr Stand-fast was he that the rest of
the Pilgrims found npon hts Knees in the Inchanted
Ground) for the Post brought it hira open in his
hands. The contents whereof, were, that he must
prepare for a Change of Life, for his Master xvas
not vAUing that he should be so far from him any
longer. At this Mr Stand-fast was put into a muse.
Nay, said the Messenger, you need not doubt of the
truth of my Message, for here is a Token of the
Truth thereof. Thy Wheel is broken at the Cistern.
Then he called to him Mr Great-heart who was their
Guide, and said, unto him. Sir, altho' it was not
my hap to be much in your good Company in the
days of my Pilgrimage, yet since the time I knew
you, you have been profitable to me. When I came
from home, I left behind me a Wife and five small
Children, let me entreat you at your return, (for I
know that you will go and return to your Master's
hoHse, in hopes that you may yet be a Conductor to
more of the holy Pilgrims) that you send to my

4

I

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

321

I

I

Family, and let them be acquainted with all that Histrrand
hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them more- f^'
over of my happy Arrival to this place, and of the
present late blessed condition that I am in. Tell
them also of Christian and Christiana his Wife, and
how she and her Children came after her Husband.
Tell them also of what a happy end she made, and
whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to
send to my Family, except it be Prayers and Tears
for them; of which it will suffice if thou acquaint
them, if peradventure they may prevaiL

When Mr Si and- fast had thus set things in
! order, and the time being come for him to haste him
away, he also went down to the River. Now there
was a great Calm at that time in the River; where-
fore Mr Stand-fast, when he was about half-way in,
he stood awhile, and talked to his Companions that
had waited upon him thither. And he said.

This River has been a Terror to njany, yea, the Hia last
thoughts of it also have often frighted me. But *""'*
now methinks I stand easy, my Foot is fixed upon
that upon which the Feet of the Priests that bare
the Ark of the Covenant stood, while Israel went
over this Jordan. The Waters indeed arc to the
Palate bitter and to the Stomach cold, yet the
thoughts of what I am going to and of the Conduct
that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a
glowing Coal at my Heart.

I see myself now at the end of my Journey, my
toilsome days are ended. I am going now to see
that Head that was crowned with Thorns, and that
Face that was spit upon for me.

I have formerly lived by Hear-say and Faith, but
now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be
with him in whose Company I delight myself.

I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and
wherever I have seen the print of his Shoe in the
Earth, there I have coveted to set my Foot too.

His Name has been to me as a Civit-box, yea,
sweeter than all Perfumes. His Voice to me has

HC— Vol. 15— H

S23 Ptuinucs raoGasas

been most tw«ct, and bis Counlautncc I have more
desired than they that have most desired the Light
of the Sun. His Word 1 did use to gather for
my Food, and for Amtdotes against my Faintings.
He has held me, and I have kept me from mine
iniquities, yea, my Steps bath be strengthened in
tus Way.

Now while be was thns in Discourse, bis Coun-
tenance changed. Ms strong man boned under bitn,
and after he bad said. Take me, for I come unto
thee, be ceased to be seen of tbem.

Bttt glorious it was to see bow the (^>cn Region
was filled n'ilh Horses and Chariots, with Trum-
peters and Pipers, with Singers and Players on
stringed Instnuneots, to welcome the Pilgrims as
they went up, and followed one another in at the
beautiful Gate of the City.

As for Christian's Children, the four Boys thai
Christiana brought with her, with their Wives and
Children, I did not stay where I was till they were
gone over. Also since I came away, I beard one
say that they were yet alive, and so would be for
the Increase of the Church in that place where they
were for a time.

Shall it be my Lot to go that way again, I may
give those that desire it an account of what I bere
am silent about; mean-time I bid my Reader Adieu.

4

I

4

THE AUTHOR'S VINDICATION

OF HIS PILGRIM

FOUND AT THE END OF HIS "HOLY WAR"

Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine,

Insinuating as if I would shine

In name and fame by the worth of another.

Like some made rich by robbing of their Brother.

Or that so fond I am of being Sire,

I'll father Bastards; or if need require,

I'll tell a lye in print to get applause.

I icorn it: John such dirt-heap never was.

Since God converted him. Let this suffice

To shoii! why I my Pilgrim patroniee.

It came from mine own heart, so to my head.
And thence into my fingers trickled;
Then to my pen, from whence immediately
On paper I did dribble it daintUy.

Manner and matter loo was all mine own.
Nor was it unto any mortal known.
Till I had done it. Nor did any then
By books, by wits, by tongues, or hand, or pen,
Add jive words to it, or write half a line
Thereof: the whole and every whit is mine.

Also, for this thine eye is now upon,
The matter in this manner came from none
But the same heart and head, fingers and pen.
As did the other. Witness all good men;
For none in all the world, without a lye.
Can say that this is mine, excepting I.
I write not this of any ostentation.
Nor 'cause I seek of men their commendation;
323

321 THE AUTHOR'S VINDICATION

/ do it to keep them from tuck stirmite.
As tempt them will my name to scandaKse,
Witness my name, if anagram'd to thee.
The letttrt make, Nn bony in a B.

Auuv munyah.

THE UFE OF DR, DONNE

rNTRODUCTORY NOTE

IZAAi WAtTOse ntu iorn on jiagutl g, i^gj. in Staffordsktrt,
Engbitd. Ht cams to London tcktrt he itrved his atf^ettiicf'
thip ot an ironmonter, and later urms la hmve been in businfts
on his Otm atconnt. He teas a loyal member of ihc Church of
England, amd vns on terms of friendshif aiik a nmmber of dis-
tinguished divines, notably Dr. John Donne, who, when he was
vicar of Saint Dunslan's. n-at a near nrighbor of Walton's. In
politics he sympathised warmly teilh the Royalist p^rty, and il
has b^eu 'suffosed that il was the triumph of the ParliarmnI in
the Civil War that ted him in 1644 to retire from fcujinwj. and,
for a time, from London. Most of his old age was spent with
his friend. Georze Morley. Bishop of fVinchcsler, and with his
daughter AnM, the wife of IV'iUiam Hawkins, a prebendary
of Wvncherler. In the house of the latter he died in December,
16S3. and was buried in iVinchester Cathedral. He was twice
married.

tVallons chief literary work, "The Compleat Angler, or the
ContempUttive Man's Recreation," teas published when he was
sixty, and he induced his friend, Charles Cotton, to supplement
it with treatise on fly-fiihing, which was incorporated with
K'attoii's fifth edition in 1676. Whatever may be Ike value of
this work as a practical guide, it rcmatTis the literary classic of
the gentle art of angling, and is remarkable for its success in con-
veying in delightful prose the charm of English meadows and
streams.

"The Life of Dr. Donne" was written by_ IValton in 1640 as an
introduction to a collection of Donnas sermons; and thirty yean
later was issued in a volume with lives of Sir Henry SVolton.
Bichard Hooker, and George Herbert. In 1678 he completed
his biographical labors with a life of Robert Sanderson. These
lives are in their way models of short biography. The charming
personality of ff a/loii himself, and the clarity and delicacy of
Style of high artistic simplicity, set off a narraliz-e in which fads
are not allowed to obscure the outlines of a character drawn
with laving admiration. Few bulky official lives succeed in
giving the reader so vivid a picture of personality as these
sketches from the hand of Izaak Walton.

I

I

I
I

THE LIFE OF DR. DONNE

I

MASTER JOHN DONNE was born in London, in the
year_i^3, of good and virtuous parents; and, though
his own learning and other multiplied merits may
justly appear sufficient to dignify both himself and his pos-
terity, yet the reader may be pleased to know that his father
was masculinely and lineally descended from a very ancient
family in Wales, where many of his name now live, that
deserve, and have great reputation in that country.

By his mother he was descended of the family of the fa-
mous and learned Sir Thomas More, sometime Lord Chan-
cellor of England: as also, from that worthy and laborious
judge Rastall, who left posterity the vast statutes of the law
of this nation most exactly abridged. --

He had his first breeding in his father's house, where a
private tutor had the care of him, until the tenth year of his
age; and, in his eleventh year, was sent to the University of
Oxford; having at that time a good command both of the
French and Latin tongue. This, and some other of his reT„
markable abilities, made one then give this censure of him:
That this age had brought forth another Picus Mirandola;
of whom story says that he was rather bom than made wise
by study.

There he remained for some years in Hart Hall, having
for the advancement of his studies, tutors of several sciences
to attend and instruct him, till time made him capable, and
his learning expressed in public exercises declared him
worthy, to receive his first degree in the schools, which he
forbore by advice from his friends, who, being for their re-
ligion of the Romish persuasion, were conscionably averse
to some parts of the oath that is always tendered at those
times, and not to be refused by those that expect the titulary
honour of their studies.

327

About the fourteenth year of his age he was transpla
from Oxford to Cambridge, where, that he might receive
nourishment from both soils, he stayed til! his seventeenth
year; all which time he was a most laboHuus student, often
changing his studies, but endeavouring to take no degree, for
the reasons formerly mentioned.

About the seventeenth year of his age he wag removed to
London, and then admitted into Lincobi's Inn. with an intent
to study the law ; where he gave great testimonies of his
wit. his learning, and of his improvement in that profession;
which never served him for other use than an ornament and
self-satisfaction.

His father died before his admission into this society, and,
being a merchant, left him his portion in money. (It was
£3000.) His mother, and those to whose care he was com-
mitted, were watchful to improve his knowledge, and to that
end appointed him tutors, both in the mathematics and in all
the other liberal sciences, to attend him. But with these arts
they were advised to instil into him particular principles of
the Romish Church, of which those tutors professed, though
secretly, themselves to be members.

They had almost obliged him to their faith; having for
tlieir advantage, besides many opportunities, the example of
his dear and pious parents, which was a most powerful per-
suasion, and did work much upon him, as he professeth in
his Preface to his Pseudo-Martyr, a book of which the reader
shall have some account in what follows.

He was now entered into the eighteenth year of his age,
and at that time had betrothed himself to no religion that
might give him any other denomination than a Christian.
And reason and piety had both persuaded him that there
could be no such sin as schism, if an adherence to some
visible church wert not necessary.

About the nineteenth year of his age, he, being then unre-
solved what religion to adhere to, and considering how much
it concerned his soul to choose the roost orthodox, did there-
fore. — though his youth and health promised him a long life,
— to rectify all scniples that might concern that, presently
laid aside all study of the law, and of all other sciences that
mtgUt give him a denomination ; and began seriously to sui^

I

I

I

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

329

I
I

Tey and consider thejiody of divinity, as it was then con-
troverted betwixt the reformed and the Roman Church. And
as God's blessed Spirit did then awaken him to the search,
and in that industry did never forsake him, — they he his own
words,' — so lie calls the same Holy Spirit to witness this pro-
testation; that in tiiat disquisition and search he proceeded
with humility and diffidence in himself, and by that which he
took to be the safest way, namely, frequent prayers, and an
indifferent affection to both parties; and indeed, truth had
too much light about her to be hid from so sharp an in-
quirer; and he had too much ingenuity not to acknowledge
he had found her.

Being to undertake this search, he believed the Cardinal
Bellarmine to be the best defender of the Roman cause, and
therefore betook himself to the examination of his reasons.
TIk cause was weighty, and wilful delays had been inex-
cusable both towards God and his own conscience : he there-
fore proceeded in this search with all moderate haste, and
about the twentieth year of his age did show the then Dean
of Gloucester — whose name my memory hath now lost — all
the Cardinal's works marked with many weighty observa-
tions under his own hand ; which works were bequeathed by
him, at his death, as a legacy to a most dear friend.

About a year following he resolved to travel; and the Earl
ot Essex going first to Cales, and after the island voyages,
the first anno 1596, the second 1597, he took the advantage
of those opportunities, waited upon his lordship, and was an
eye-witness of those happy and unhappy employments.

But he returned not back into England till he had stayed
some years, first in Italy, and then in Spain, where he made
many useful observations of those countries, their laws and
manner of government, and returned perfect in their lan-
guages.

The time that he spent in Spain was, at his first going
into Italy, designed for travelling to the Holy Land, and for
viewing Jerusalem and the sepulchre of our Saviour. But
at his being in the farthest parts of Italy, the disappointment
of company, or of a safe convoy, or the uncertainty of re-
turns of money into those remote parts, denied him that
> In hii Ptcfue 10 PKodo-UarlTr.

330

TKAAK WALTON

happiness, which he did often occasionally mention wiili a
deploratioa.

Not long after his return into England, that exemplary
pattern of gravity and wisdom, the Lord Ellesmere, then
Keeper of the Great Seal, the Lord Chancellor of England,
taking notice of his learning, languages, and other abilities,
and much affecting his person and behaviour, took him to
be his chief secretary; supposing and intending it to be an
introduction to some more weighty employment in tlie State;
for whitdi, his Lordship did often protest, he thought hiffl
very fit.

Nor did his Lordship in this time of Master Donne's at'
tendance upon him, account him to he so much his servant,
as to forget he was his friend; and, to testify it, did alwaj-s
use him with much courtesy, appointing him a place at his
own table, to which he esteemed his company and discourse
to be a great ornament.

He continued that employment for the space of five years,
being daily useful, and not mercenary to his friend. During
which time, he — I dare not say unhappily — fell into such a
liking, as — with her approbation — increased into a love, with
a young gentlewoman that lived in that family, who was
niece to the Lady Ellesmere, and daughter to Sir George
More, then Chancellor of the Garter and Lieutenant of the
Tower

Sir George had some intimation of it, and, knowing pre-
vention to be a great part of wisdom, did therefore remove
her with mucli haste from that to his own house at Lolhesley,
in the County of Surrey; but too late, by reason of some
faithful promises which were so interchangeably passed, as
never to be violated by either par^.

These promises were only known to themselves; and the
friends of both parties used much diligence, and many argu-
ments, to kill or cool their affections to each other: but in
vain; for love is a flattering mischief, that halh denied aged
and wise men a foresight of those evils that too often p.'ove
to be the children of that blind father; a passion, that car-
ries us to commit errors with as much ease as whirlwinds
move feathers, and begets in us an unwearied industry to the
attainment of what we desire. And such an industry did,

4

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

sn

Dtwithstanditig much watchfulness against it, bring them
secretly together, — 1 forbear to tell the manner how, — and at
last to a maniage too, without the allowance of those
friends, whose approbation always was, and ever will be
necessary, to make even a virtuous love become lawful.

And, that the knowledge of their marriage might not fall,
like an unexpected tempest, on those that were unwilling to
have it so; and that pre- apprehensions might make it the
less enormous when it was known, tt was purposely whis-
pered into the ears of many that it was so. yet by none that
could affirm it. But, to put a period to the jealousies of Sir
George, — doubt often begetting more restless thoughts than
the certain knowledge of what we fear. — the news was, in
favour to Mr. Donne, and with his allowance, made known
to Sir George by his honourable friend and neighbour,
Henry, Earl of Northumberland: but it was to Sir George
so immeasurably unwelcome, and so transported him. that,
as though his passion of anger and inconsideration might
exceed theirs of love and error, he presently engaged his
sister, the Lady Ellesmere, to join with him to procure her
lord to discharge Mr. Donne of the place he held under his
Lordship. This request was followed with violence; and
though Sir George was remembered that errors might be
over-punished, and desired therefore to forbear til! second
considerations might clear some scruples, yet he became
restless until his suit was granted, and the punishment exe-
cuted. And though the Lord Chancellor did not, at Mr.
Donne's dismission, give him such a commendation as the
great Emperor Charles the Fifth did of his Secretary Erase,
when he parted with him to his son and successor, Philip
the Second, saying, "That in his Eraso, he gave to htm a
greater gift than all his estate, and all the kingdoms which
he then resigned to him:" yet the Lord Chancellor said, " He
parted wilh a friend, and such a secretary as was fitter to
serve a king than a subject."

Immediately after his dismission from his service he sent
a sad letter to his wife, to acquaint her wilh it; and after
the subscription of his name, writ.

John Donne, Anne Dontie, Utt-done;

332

IZAAK WALTON

And God Icnows it proved too true; for this bitter physic of
Mr. Donne's dismission was not enough to purge out all Sir
George's choler ; for he was not satisfied till Mr. Donne and
his sometime com-pupil in Cambridge, that married hira,
namely, Samuel Brooke, who was after Doctor in Divinity
and Master of Trinity College, and his brother, Mr. Chris-
topher Brooke, sometime Mr, Donne's chamber-fellow in
Lincoln's Inn, who gave Mr. Donne his wife, and wit-
nessed the marriage, were all committed to three several
prisons.

Mr. Donne was first enlarged, who neither gave rest to his
body or brain, nor to any friend in whom he might hope to
have an interest, until he had procured an enlargement for
his two imprisoned friends.

He was now at liberty, but his days were still cloudy : and
being past these troubles, others did still multiply upon him ;
for his wife was — to her extreme sorrow — detained from
him; and though with Jacob he endured not a hard service
for her, yet he lost a good one, and was forced to make
good his ;it!c. and to get possession of her by a long and
restless suit in law; which proved troublesome and sadly
chargeable to him, whose youth, and travel, and needless
bounty had brought his estate into a narrow compass.

It is observed, and most truly, that silence and submission
are charming qualities, and work most upon passionate men;
and it proved so with Sir George; for these, and a general
report of Mr. Donne's merits, together with his winning
behaviour, which, when it would entice, had a strange kind
of elegant irresistible art; — these and time had so dispas-
sionated Sir George, that as the world approved his daugh-
ter's choice, so he also could not but see a more than
ordinary merit in his new son; and this at last melted hira
into so much remorse, — for love and anger are so like agues,
as to have hot and cold fits; and love in parents, though it
may be quenched, yet is easily re-kindled, and expires not
till death denies mankind a natural heat, — that be laboured
his son's restoration to his place; using to that end both bis
own and his sister's power to her lord; but with no success,
for his answer was, " That though he was unfcigncdiy sorry
for what he had done, yet it was inconsistent with his place

4

UPE OF DR. DONNE

l»

I
I
I

and credit to discharge and re-admit servants at the request
of passionate petitioners."

Sir George's endeavour for Mr, Donne's re-admission was
by alt means to be kept secret; for men do more naturally
reluct for errors than submit to put on those blemishes that
attend their visible acknowledgment. — But, however, it was
not long before Sir George appeared to be so far reconciled
as to wish their happiness, and not to deny them his paternal
blessing, but yet refused to contribute any means that might
conduce to their livelihood,

Mr. Donne's estate was the greater part spent in many and
chargeable travels, books, and dear-bought experience ; lie
out of all empioj-ment that might yield a support for himself
and wife, who had been curiously and plentifully educated;
both their natures generous, and accustomed to confer, and
not to receive, courtesies : these and other considerations, but
chiefly that his wife was to bear a part in his sufferings,
surrounded him with many sad thoughts, and some apparent
apprehensions of want

But his sorrows were lessened and his wants prevented by
the seasonable courtesy of their noble kinsman. Sir Francis
Wolly, of Pirford, in Surrey, who entreated them to a co-
habitation with him, where they remained with much free-
dom to themselves, and equal content to him, for some years;
and as their charge increased — she had yearly a child — so
did his love and bounty.

It hath been observed by wise and considering men that
wealth hath seldom been the portion, and never the mark to
discover good people : but that Almighty God, who disposeth
all things wisely, hath of his abundant goodness denied Jt —
He only knows why — to many whose minds He hath en-
riched with the greater blessings of knowledge and virtue,
as the fairer testimonies of his love to mankind ; and this
was the present condition of this man of so excellent erudi-
tion and endowments; whose necessary and daily expenses
were hardly reconcilable with his uncertain and narrow
estate. Which I mention, for that at this time there was a
most generous offer made him for the moderating of his
worldly cares; the declaration of which shall be the next
employment of my ^ea.

M

I7AAK WALTON

God hath hecn so good to his church as to afford it in
every age some such men to serve at his attar as have been
piously ambitious of doing good to mankind; a disposition
that is so like to God himself that it owes itself only to Hini,
who takes a pleasure to behold it in his creatures. These
limes' He did bless with many such; some of which stil! live
to be patterns of apostolical charity, and gf more than human
patience. I have said this because I have occasion to men-
tion one of them in my following discourse, namely, Dr.
Morton, the most laborious and learned Bishop of Durham;
one that God hath blessed with perfect intellectuals and a
cheerful heart at the age of ninety-four years — and is yet
living; — one that in his days of plenty had so large a heart
as to use his large revenue to the encouragement of learning
and virtue, and is now — be it spoken with sorrow — reduced
to a narrow estate, which he embraces without repining; and
still shows the beauty of hia mind by so liberal a hand, as it
this were an age in which to-morrow were to care for itseli
I have taken a pleasure in giving tlie reader a short but true
character of this good man, my friend, from whom I re-
ceived this following relation. — He sent to Mr. Donne, and
entreated to borrow an hour of his time for a conference the
next day. After their meeting there was not many minutes
passed before he spake to Mr, Donne to this purpose: " Mf.
Donne, the occasion of sending for you is to propose to you
what I have often revolved io my own thought since I last
saw you: which, nevertheless, I will not declare but upon
this condition, that you shall not return mc a present answer,
but forbear three days, and bestow some part of that time in
fasting and prayer; and after a serious consideration of what
I shall propose, then return to me with your answer. Deny
me not, Mr, Donne ; for it is the effect of a true love, which
I would gladly pay as a debt due for yours to me."

This request being granted, the Doctor expressed himself
thus : —

" Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities ; I know
your expectation of a State employment; and I know your
6tness for it; and 1 know, too, ihe many delays and con-
tingencies that attend Court promises: and let me teli you

tIF« OV DH. DONNE

»t

Aat my love, begot by our long friendship and your merits,
tiath prompted me to such an inquisition after your present
temporal estate as makes me no stranger to your necessities,
which I know to be snch as your generous spirit could not
bear if it were not supported with a pious patience. Yon
know I have formerly persuaded you to waive your Court
hopes, and enter into holy orders; which I now again per-
suade you to embrace, with this reason added to my former
request: The King hath yesterday made me Dean o! Glou-
cester, and I am also possessed of a benefice, the profits of
which are equal to those of my deanery; I will think my
deanery enough for my maintenance, — who am, and resolved
to die, a single man. — and will quit my benefice, and estate
you in it, which the patron is willing I shall do, if God shall
incline your heart to embrace this motion. Remember, Mr,
Donne, no man's education or parts make him too good for
this employment, which is to be an ambassador for the God
of glory ; that God who by a vile death opened the gates of
life !o mankind. Make me no present answer; but remem-
ber your promise, and return to me the third day with your
resolution."

At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne's faint breath and per-
plexed countenance give a visible testimony of an inward
conflict; but he performed his promise, and departed without
returning an answer till the third day, and then his answer
was to this effect: —

" My most worthy and most dear friend, since I saw you
I have been faithful to my promise, and have also meditated
much of your great kindness, which hath been such as would
exceed even my gratitude ; but that it cannot do ; and more
I cannot return you ; and I do that with an heart full of
humiiity and thanks, though I may not accept of your offer:
but, sir, my refusal is not for that I think myself too good
for that calling, for which kings, if they think so, are not
good enough ; nor for that my education and learning, though
not eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace and
humility, render me in some measure fit for it: but I dare
make so dear a friend as you ai^ my confessor. Some ir-
regularities of my life have been so visible to some men. that
though I have, I thank God, made my peace with Him by

398

IZAAK WALTON

penitential rcsolulions against them, and t^ the assistance
o£ his grace banislieJ them my affections; yet tins, which
God knows to be so, ts not so visible to man as to free me
from their censures, and it may be that sacred calling from
a dishonour. And besides, whereas it is determined by the
best of casuists that God's glory should be the first end, and
a maintenance the second motive to embrace that calling,
and though each man may propose to himself both together,
yet the first may not be put last without a violation of
conscience, which he that searches the heart will judge And
truly my present condition is such that if I ask my own
conscience whether it be reconcilable to that rule, it is at
this time so perplexed about it, that I can neither give my-
self nor you an answer. You know, sir, who says, ' Happy
is that man whose conscience doth not accuse him for that
thing which he does.' To these I might add other reasons
that dissuade me; but 1 crave your favour that I may for-
bear to express them, and thankfully decline your offer."

This was his present resolution, but the heart of man' is not
in his own keeping; and he was destined to this sacred ser-
vice by an higher hand — a hand so powerful as at last forced
him to a compliance: of which I shall give the reader an
account before I shall give a rest to my pen.

Mr. Donne and his wife continued with Sir Francis Wolly
till his death: a little before which time Sir Francis was so
happy as to make a perfect reconciliation betwixt Sir George
and his forsaken son and daughter ; Sir George conditioning
by bond to pay to Mr. Donne fSoo at a certain day, as a
portion with his wife, or £20 quarterly for their maintenance
as the interest for it, till the said portion was paid.

Most of those years that he lived with Sir Francis he
studied the Civil and Canon Laws ; in which be acquired
such a perfection, as was judged to hold proportion with
many who had made that study the employment of their
whole life.

Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family dissolved,
Mr. Donne took for himself a house in Mitcham, near to
Croydon in Surrey, a place noted for good air and choice
company: there his wife and children remained; and for

4

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

337

I

himself he took lodgings in London, near to Whitehall,

whither his friends and occasions drew him very often, and
where he was as often visited by many of the nobility and
others of this nation, who used him in their counsels of
greatest consideration, and with some rewards for his better
subsistence.

Nor did our own nobility only value and favour him, but his
acquaintance and friendship was sought for by most ambas-
sadors of foreign nations, and by many other strangers, whose
learning or business occasioned their stay in this nation.

He was much importuned by many friends to make his
constant residence in London ; but he still denied it, having
settled his dear wife and children at Mitcham, and near some
friends that were bountiful to them and him; for they, God
knows, needed it: and that you may the better now judge of
the then present condition of his mind and fortune, I shall
present you with an extract collected out of some few of his
ly letters.

1^:

■last

' . . . And the reason why I did not send an answer to your
Mast week's letter was, because it then found me under too
great a sadness; and at present 'tis thus with me: There is
not one person, but myself, well of my family : I have al-
ready lost half a child, and, with that mischance of hers, my
wife has fallen into such a discomposure as would afflict her
too extremely, but that the sickness of all her other children
stupefies her — of one of which, in good faith, I have not
much hope ; and these meet with a fortune so ill-provided for
physic, and such relief, that if God should ease us with
[_ burials, I know not how to perform even that: but I flatter
lyself with this hope, that I am dying too; for I cannot
' waste faster than by such griefs. As for, —

I From my Hospital at Mitcham,

Aug. 10. John Donne."

Thus he did bemoan himself; and thus in other letters

. , For, we hardly discover a. sin, when it is but an
'omission of some good, and no accusing act: with this or the
former I have often suspected myself to be overtaken; which

938

IZAAK WALTON

is, with an over-eamest desire of the next life: and, thougli I
know it is not merely a weariness of this, because I had the
same desire when I went with the tide, and enjoyed fairer
hopes than I now do; yet I doubt worldly troubles have in-
creased it: 'tis now spring, and all the pleasures of it dis-
please me; every other tree blossoms, and I wither; I grow
older, and not better; my strength diminisheth, and my load
gTOwa heavier; and yet 1 would fain be or do something;
but that I cannot tell what, is no wonder in this time of my
sadness; for to choose is to do: but to be no part of any
body is as to be nothing: and so I am, and shall so judge
myself, unless 1 could be so incorporated into a part of the
world, as by business lo contribute some sustentation to the
whole. This I made account: I began early, when I under-
stood tlie study of our laws; but was diverted by leaving
that, and embracing the worst voluptuousness, an hjiiroptic
immoderate desire of human learning and languages: beauti-
ful ornaments Indeed lo men of great fortunes, but mine was
grown so low as to need an occupation ; which I thought I
entered well into, when I subjected myself to such a service
as I thought might exercise my poor abiUties: and there I
stumbled, and fell too; and now I am become so little, or
such a nothing, that I am not a subject good enough for
one of my own letters. — Sir, I fear my present discontent
does not proceed from a good root, that I am so well content
to be nothing, that is, dead. But, sir, though my fortune
hath made me such, as that T am rather a sickness or a
disease of the world, than any part of it, and therefore
neither love it nor life, yet I would gladly live to become
some such thing as you shoiJd not repent loving me. Sir,
your own soul cannot he more zealous for your good than
I am; and God, who loves that zeal in me, will not suffer
you to doubt it. You would pity me now if you saw me
write, for my pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and
holds it so, that my eye cannot follow my pen. I therefore
receive you into my prayers with mine own weary soul, and
commend myself to yours. 1 doubt not but next week will
bring you good news, for I have either mending or dying
on my side; but if I do continue longer thus, I shall have
comfort in this, that my blessed Saviour in exercising his

4

4

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

339

I justice upon my two worldly parts, my fortune and my body,
reserves all his mercy for that which most needs it, my soul 1
which is, I doubt, too like a porter, that is very often near
the gate, and yet goes not out. Sir, I profess to you truly
that my loathness to give over writing now seems to myself
[a sign thst 1 shall write no more.

Your poor friend, and

God's poor patient,
Sept. y. John Donne."

By this you have seen a part of the picture of his narrow
fortune, and the perplexities of his generous mind; and thus
it continued with him for about two years, all which time his
family remained constantly at Mitcham ; and to which place
he often retired himself, and destined some days to a constant
study of some points of controversy betwixt the English and
Roman Church, and especially those of Supremacy and Al-
legiance: and to that place and such studies he could will-
ingly have wedded himself during his hfe; but the earnest
persuasion of friends became at last to be so powerful as to
cause the removal of himself and family to London, where
Sir Robert Drewry, a gentleman of a very noble estate, and
a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife an useful
apartment in his own large house in Drury Lane, and not
only rent free, but was also a cherisher of his studies, and
such a friend as sympathised with him and his, in a!! their

I joy and sorrows.

' At this time of Mr. Donne's and his wife's living in Sir
Robert's house, the Lord Hay was, by King James, sent upon
a glorious embassy to the then French king, Henry the
Fourth ; and Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution to ac-
company him to the French court, and to be present at his
audience there. And Sir Robert put on a sudden resolution
to solicit Mr. Donne to be his companion In that journey.
And this desire was suddenly made known to his wife, who
was then with child, and otherwise under so dangerous a
habit of body, as to her health, that she professed an un-
willingness to allow him any absence from her; saying,
" Her divining sou! boded her some ill in his absence ;" and
therefore desired Mm not to leftve her. This made Mr.

340

IZAAK WALTON

Donne lay aside all thoughts of the journey, and really to
resolve against it. But Sir Robert became restless in his
persuasions for it, and Mr, Donne was so generous as to
think he had sold his liberty, when he received so many
charitable kindnesses from liim : and told his wife so, who did
therefore, with an unwilling- willingness, give a fai nt co nsent
to the journey, which was proposed to be but lor two montEs;
for about that time they determined their return. Within a
few days after this resolve, the Ambassador, Sir Robert, and
■ Mr, Donne left London; and were the twelfth day got all
safe to Paris. Two days after their arrival there, Mr.
Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert, and
he, and some other friends had dined together. To this
place Sir Robert returned within half-aa-hour ; and as he
left, so he found, Mr. Donne alone, but in such an ecstasy,
and so altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to be-
hold him; insomuch that he earnestly desired Mr. Donne
to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his
absence. To which Mr. Donne was not able to make a pres-
ent answer, but after a long and perplexed pause, did at last
say, ■' I have seen a dreadful vision since I saw you: I have
seen my dear wife pass twice by me through this room, with
her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in
her arms ; this I have seen since I saw you." To which Sir
Robert replied, " Sure, sir, you have slept since I saw you;
and this is the result of some melancholy dream, which I
desire you to forget, for you are now awake." To which Mr.
Donne's reply was, " I cannot be surer that I now live than
that I have not slept since I saw you ; and am as sure that
at her second appearing she stopped and looked me in the
face, and vanished." Rest and sleep had not altered Mf.
Donne's opinion the 'next day, for he then affirmed thii
opinion with a more deliberate, and so confirmed a confi-
dence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that tlic
vision was true. — It is truly said that desire and doubt have
no rest, and it proved so with Sir Robert; for he immedi-
ately sent a servant to Drewry House, with a charge to
hasten back, and bring him word whether Mrs. Donne were
alive; and, if alive, in what condition she was aa to her
health. The twelfth da^ the messenger returned with this

I

4
4

UPE OP DR. DONNE

341

I

acccninl: That he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad, and
sick in her bed ; and that, after a long and dangerous labour,
she had been delivered of a dead child. And, upon exami-
nation, the abortion proved to be the same day. and about
the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by
him in his chamber.

This is a relation that will beget some wonder, and it well
may; for most of our world are at present possessed with an
opinion that visions and miracles are ceased. And, though
it is most certain that two lutes being both strung and tuned
to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, tliat
is not touched, being laid upon a table at a fit distance, will
— like an echo to a trumpet — warble a faint audible harmony
in answer to the same tune ; yet many will not believe there
is any such thing as a sympathy of souls; and I am well
pleased that every reader do enjoy his own opinion. But it
the unbelieving will not allow the believing reader of this
story a liberty to believe that ii may be true, then I wish him
to consider, many wise men have believed that the ghost of
Julius Caesar did appear to Brutus, and that both St. Austin
and Monica his mother had visions in order to his conver-
sion. And though these, and many others — too many to
name — have but the authority of human story, yet the in-
credible reader may find in the sacred story' that Samuel did
appear to Saul even after his death — whether really or not,
I undertake not to determine. — And Bildad, in the Book of
Job, says these words : " A spirit passed before my face :
the hair of my head stood up; fear and trembling came upon
me, and made all my bones to shake."" Upon which words
I will make no comment, but leave them to be considered by
the incredulous reader; to whom I will also commend this
following consideration: That there be many pious and
learned men that believe our merciful God hath assigned to
every man a particular guardian angel, to be his constant
monitor, and to attend him in ail his dangers, both of body
and soul. And the opinion that every man hath his par-
ticular Angel may gain some authority by the relation of
St. Peter'a miraculous deliverance out of prison,' not by

> ISuD.sxTiii. U. * I(ibir.l31f

• Actsiii.TJO: a.ais.

3<Z

IZAAK WALTON

many, but by one angel. And this belief may yet gain more
credit by the reader's considering, that when Peter after his
enlargement knocked at the door of Mary the mother of
John, ami Rhode, the maidservant, being surprised with joy
that Peter was there, did not let him in, but ran in haste
and told the disciples — who were then and tiiere met together
— that Peter was at the door ; and they, not believing it, said
she was mad; yet, when she again affirmed it, though th^
then believed it not, yet they concluded, and said, " It is his
angel."

More observations of this nature, and inferences from
them, might be made to gain the relation a firmer belief ; but
I forbear, lest I, that intended to be but a relator, may be
thought to be an engaged person for the proving what was
related to me ; and yet I think myself bound to -Wclare, that
though it was not told nie by Mr. Donne himself, it was told
me — now long since — by a person of honour, and- of such
intimacy with him, that he knew more of (he secrets of his
soul than any person then hving: and I think he told me the
truth; for it was told with such circumstances, and such
asseverations, that — to say nothing of my own thoughts — I
verily believe he that told it me did himself believe it to
be true,

I forbear the reader's further trouble, as to the relation.
and what concerns it; and will conclude mine with com-
mending to his view a copy of verses given by Mr. Donne
to his wife at the time he then parted from her. And I bef
leave to tell that I have heard some critics, learned both in
languages and poetry, say that none of the Greek or Latin
poets did ever equal them.

A Valediction, i'oKBn»oi»o to IforrRH.

As virtuous men pass mildly away,

And wliiepcr to their, souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do aay.

The breath go:s now, and tome aay No:

So let ua melt, and make □□ noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh- tempests more;

Twere profanation of our joys.
To tell the laity our love^

LIFB OF DR. DONNE

343

N

Uoving of th' tarth brinKs bamia and fears;

Men rcekon what it did or meatit:
But trepidation of the sphcrea,

Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull aubluBEiy lovers' love —

Whose soul is sense — can not admit
Absence, because that doth remove

Those things nhteh elemented it.

But we, by a love so far refined.

That ourselves Know not what it is,
InKr'assured of the mind,

Care not hands, eyes, or lips to miss.

Our two souls therefore which are one, —

Though I muEt go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,

Like gold to airy thinness bea.L

If we be two ? we are two so

As stiff twin-compasses are two :
Thy soul, the Hx'd foot, makes no show

To move, but does i£ tb' other do.

And though thicc in the centre sit,

Yet, when my other far does roam.
Thine leans and hearkens after it,

And grows erect as mine comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,

Like Ih' other foot, obliquely run :
Thy firmness makes my circle just.

And me to end where I begun.

I return from my account of the vision, to tel! the reatJer
that both before Mr, Donne's going into France, at his being
there, and after his return, many of the nobility and others
that were powerful at Court, were watchful and solicitous to
the King for some secular employment for him. The King
had formerly both known and put a value upon his company,
and had also given him some hopes of a State employment;
being always much pleased when Mr. Donne attended him,
especially at his meals, where there were usually many deep
discourses of general learning, and very often friendly dis-
putes, or debates of religion, betwixt his Majesty and those
divines whose places required their attendance on him at
those times, particularly the Dean of the Chapel, who then
was Bishop Montague — the publisher of the learned and tbc

3U

IZAAK WALTON

eloquent works of his Majesty — and the most Rererend
Doctor Andrews, the late learned Bishop of Winchester, who
was then the King's almoner.

About this time there grew many disputes that concerned
the oath of supremacy and allegiance, in which the King had
appeared, and engaged himself by his public writings now
extant; and his Majesty discoursing with Mr. Donne concern-
ing many of the reasons which are usually urged against the
taking of those oaths, apprehended such a validity and clear-
ness in his stating the questions, and his answers to them,
that his Majesty commanded him to bestow some time in
drawing the arguments into a method, and then to write his
answers to them ; and, having done that, not to send, but be
his own messenger, and bring them to him. To this he
presently and diligently apjilied himself, and within six
weeks brought them to him under his own handwriting, as
they be now printed ; the book bearing the name of Pseudo-
Marlyr, printed anno 1610.

When the King had read and considered that book, he
persuaded Mr. Donne to enter into the ministry; to which,
at that time, he was, and appeared, very unwilling, appre-
hending it — such was his mistaken modesty — to be too
weighty for his abilities: and though his Majesty had prom-
ised him a favour, and many persons of worth mediated with
his Majesty for some secular employment for him, — to which
his education had adapted him, — and particularly the Earl of
Somerset, when in his greatest height of favour; who being
then at Theobald's with the King, where one of the clerks
of the council died that night, the Earl posted a messenger for
Mr. Donne to come to him immediately, and at Mr. Donne's
coming said, "Mr. Donne, to testify the reality of my affec-
tion, and my purpose to prefer you, stay in this garden till
I go up to the King and bring you word that you arc cleik
of the council: doubt not my doing this, for I know the King
loves you, and know the King will not deny me," But the
King gave a positive denial to all requests, and, having a
discerning spirit, replied, "I know Mr. Donne is a learned
man, has the abilities of a learned divine, and will prove a
powerful preacher; and my desire is to prefer him that way,
and in that way I will deny you nothing for him.'

«

UFE OF DR.

345

N

After that time, as he professeth,' " the King descended to
a persuasion, almost to a solicitation, of him to enter into
sacred orders/' which, though he then denied not, yet he
deferred it for almost three years. All which time he ap-
plied himself to an incessant study of textual divinity, and
to the attainment of a greater perfection in the learned lan-
guages, Greek and Hebrew.

In the first and most blessed times of Christianity, when the
clergy were looked upon with reverence, and deserved it,
when they overcame their opposers by high examples of vir-
tue, by a blessed patience and long suffering, those only
were then judged worthy the ministry whose quiet and meek
spirits did make them look upon that sacred calling with an
humble adoration and fear to imdertake it; which indeed
requires such great degrees of humility, and labour, and
care, that none but such were then thought worthy of that
celestial dignity. And such only were then sought out, and
solicited to undertake it. This I have mentioned, because
forwardness and i neons id e ration could not, in Mr. Donne,
as in many others, be an argument of insufficiency or unfit-
ness; for he had considered long, and had many strifes
within himself concerning the strictness of life, and com-
petency of learning, required in such as enter into sacred
orders ; and doubtless, considering his own demerits, did
humbly ask God with St, Paul, "Lord, who is sufficient for
these things ? " and with meek Moses, " Lord, who am I ? "
And sure, if he had consulted with flesh and blood, he had
not for these reasons put his hand to that holy plough. But
God, who is able to prevail, wrestled with him, as the angel
did with Jacob, and marked him; marked him for his own;
marked him with a blessing, a blessing of obedience to the
motions of his blessed Spirit. And then, as he had for-
merly asked God with Moses, " Who am I ? " so now, being
inspired with an apprehension of God's particular mercy to
him, in tlie King's and others' solicitations of him he came
to ask King David's thankful question, "Lord, who am I,
that thou art so mindful of me?" So mindful of me, as to
lead me for more than forty years through this wilderness
of tlie many temptations and various turnings of a dan-
) la bla Book of Devotloiu.

iU

IZAAK WALTON

gerous life; so merciful to me, as to move the learnedest of
Kings to descend to move me tg serve at the altar J So
merciful to me, as at last to move my heart to embrace this
holy motion! Thy motions I will and do embrace; and I
Qow say with the blessed Virgin, " Be it with thy servant
as secmeth best in thy sight"; and so, Blessed Jesus, I 6c
take the cup of salvation, and will call upon thy name, and
v/iU preach thy gospeL

Such strifes as these St. Austin had, when St, Ambrose
endeavoured his conversion to Christianity; with which he
confesseth he acquainted his friend Alipius. Our learned
author — a man fit to write after no mean copy — did the like.
And declaring his intentions to his dear friend Dr. King,
then Bishop of London, a man famous in his generation, and
no stranger to Mr, Donne's abilities, — for he had been chap-
Iain to the Lord Chancellor at the time of Mr. Donne's being
bis Lordship's secretary, — that reverend man did receive the
news with much gladness; and, after some expressions of
joy, and a persuasion to be constant in his pious purpose
he proceeded with all convenient speed to ordain him first
deacon, and then priest not long after.

Now the English Church had gained a second St Austin ;
for I think none was so like him before his conversion, none
so like St. Ambrose after it: and if his youth had the in-
firmities of the one, his age had the excellencies of the other;
the learning and holiness of both.

And now all his studies, which had been occasionally dif-
fused, were all concentered in divinity. Now he had a new
calling, new thoughts, and a new employment for his wit
and eloquence. Now, all his earthly affections were changed
into divine love; and all the faculties of his own soul were
engaged in the conversion of others ; in preaching the g;lad
tidings of remission to repenting sinners, and peace to
troubled soul.

To these he applied himself with all care and diligence;
and now such a change was wrought in him, that b«
could say with David. " O how amiable are thy taber-
nacles, O Lord God of Hosts 1 " Now he declared openly,
" that when be required a temporal, God gave him a spiritual
blessing." And that " he was now gladder to be a door-

4

LIFE OP DR. DONNE

347

I

keeper in the house of God, than he could be to enjoy the
noblest of all temporal employments."

Presently after he entered into his holy profession, the
King sent for him, and made him his chaplain in ordinary,
and promised to take a particular care for his preferment.

And though his long familiarity with scholars and persons
of greatest quality was such as might have given some men
boldness enough to have preached to any eminent auditory,
yet his modesty in this employment was such that he could
not be persuaded to it, but went usually accompanied with
some one friend to preach privately in some village, not far
from London, his first sermon being preached at Paddington.
This he did, till his Majesty sent and appointed him a day
to preach to him at Whitehall; and, though much were ex-
pected from him, both by his Majesty and others, yet he
was so happy — which few are — as to satisfy and exceed their
expectations: preaching the Word so, as showed his own
heart was possessed with those very thoughts and joys that
he laboured to distil into others; a preacher in earnest;
weeping sometimes for his auditory, sometimes with them;
always preaching to himself, like an angel from a cloud, but
in none; carrying some, as St. Paul was, to heaven in holy
raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and courtship
to amend their Hves; here picturing a vice so as to make
it ugly to those that practised it. and a virtue so as to make
it beloved even by those that loved it not; and all this with
a most particular grace and an unexpressible addition of
comeliness.

There may be some that may incline to think — such indeed
as have not heard him — that my affection to my friend hath
transported me to an immoderate commendation of his
preaching. If this meets with any such, let me entreat,
though I will omit many, yet that they will receive a double
witness for what I say; it being attested by a gentleman of
worth, — Mr. Chidley, a frequent hearer of his sermons, — in
part of a funeral elegy writ by him on Dr. Donne; and is
a known truth, though it be in verse —

—Each alUr had his fire —
He kept his love, but Dot his object ; wit
B« did not banish, bat osiiRplamed it;

348

IZAAK WALTON

Tftufht it both time and place, and brouglit it borne
To piety which it doth best becomp.

For Mf, had ever pleasure «uch a dress?

Have you seen crimH so shaped, oi lovelineu

Such as hiE Hpa did clothe retis>on in?

Had not reproof a beauty pasaing sin?

Corrupted Nature sorrow 'd that she stood

So neai the danger of becomins good.

And, when he preached, she wish'd her ears exempt

Prom piety, that had such power to tempt.

How did bis sacred flattery bcicuile

Men ID amend? —

More of this, and more witnesses, might be tronght; but
forbear and return.

That summer, in the very same month in which he entered
into sacred orders, and was made the King's chaplain, his
Majesty then going his progress, was entreated to receive an
entertainment in the University of Cambridge; and Mr.
Donne attending his Majesty at that time, his Majesty was
pleased to recommend him to the University, to be made
doctor in divinity. Dr. Harsnett, after Archbishop of York,
was then Vice-Chan cell or, who, knowing him to be the
author of that learned book. The Pseudo-Martyr, required
no other proof of his abilities, but proposed it to the Uni-
versity, who presently assented, and expressed a gladness
that they had such an occasion to entitle Wra to be theirs.

His abilities and industry in his profession were so emi-
nent, and he so known and so beloved by persons of quality,
that within the first year of his entering into sacred orders
he had fourteen advowsons of several benefices presented to
him; but they were in the country, and he could not leave
his beloved London, to which place he had a natural inclina-
tion, having received both his birth and education in it, and
there contracted a friendship wrth many, whose conversation
multipiicd the joys of his life: but an employment that might
affix him that place would be welcome, for he needed it.

Immediately after his return from Cambridge his wife
died, leaving him a man of a narrow, unsettled state, and—
having buried five — the careful father of seven children then
living, to whom he gave a voluntary assurance never to
bring them under the subjectioa of s step-mother; wbich

«

I

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

3i9

W

LI

promise he kept most faithfully, burying with his tears all
his earthly joys in his most dear and deserving wife's grave,
and betook himself to a most retired and solitary life.

In this retiredness, which was often from the sight of his
dearest friends, he became crucified to the world, and all
those vanities, those imaginary pleasures, that are daily acted
on that restless stage; and they were as perfectly crucified
to him. Nor is it hard to think — being, passions may be
both changed and heightened by accidents — but that tlial
abundant affection which once vras betwixt him and her,
who had long been the delight of his eyes and the com-
panion of his youth ; her, with whom he had divided so
many pleasant sorrows and contented fears, as common peo-
ple are not capable of; — not hard to tliink but that she
being now removed by death, a commensurable grief took
as full a possession of him as Joy had done; and so indeed
it did ; for now his very soul was elemented of nothing but
sadness; now grief took so full a possession of his heart, as
to leave no place for joy: if it did, it was a joy to be alone,
where, like a pelican in the wilderness, he might bemoan him-
■If without witness or restraint, and pour forth his passions
'like Job in the days of his affliction : " Oh that I might have
the desire of my heart ! Oh that God would grant the thing
that I long for ! " For then, as the grave is become her
house, so 1 would hasten to make it mine also ; that we two
might there make our beds together in the dark. Thus, as
the Israelites sat mourning by the rivers of Babylon, when
they remembered Sion, so he gave some ease to his oppressed
leart by thus venting his sorrows: thus he began the day,
ind ended the night; ended the restless night and began t!ie
weary day in lamentations. And thus he continued, till a
consideration of his new engagements to God, and St. Paul's
"Woe is me, if I preach not the gospel!" dispersed those
sad clouds that had then benighted his hopes, and now forced
him to behold the light.

His first motion from his house was to preach where his
beloved wife lay buried, — in St. Clement's Church, near
Temple Bar, London, — and his text was a part of the Prophet
Jeremy's LamenUtion: "Lo, I am the man that have seen
aCQiction."

350

IZAAK WALTON

And indeed bia very words and locJcs testified him to be
truly such a man; and they, with the addition of his sighs
and tears, expressed in his semton, did so work upon the
affections of his hearers, as melted and moulded them into a
companionable sadness; and so they left the con^egation;
but then their houses presented thetn with objects of diver-
sion, and his presented him with nothing' but fresh objects
of sorrow, in beholding many helpless children, a narrow
fortune, and a consideration of the many cares and casualdi
that attend their education.

In this time of sadness he was Importuned by the grave
Benchers of Lincoln's Inn — who were once his companions
and friends of his youth — to accept of their lecture, which,
by reason of Dr. Gataker's removal from thence, was then
void; of which he accepted, being most glad to renew his
intermitted friendship with those whom he so much loved,i
and where he had been a Saul, — though not to perBecuIe
Christianity, or to deride it, yet in his irregular youth to
neglect the visible practice of it, — there to become a Paul,
and preach salvation to his beloved brethren.

And now his life was a shining light among his old
friends; now he gave an ocular testimony of the strictness
and regularity of it ; now he might say, as St. Paul adviseth
his Corinthians, " Be ye followers of me, as I follow Christ.
and walk as ye have me for an example;" not the example
of a busy body, but of a contemplative, a harmless, an humble
and an holy life and conversation.

The love of that noble society was expressed to him many
ways; for. besides fair lodgings that were set apart, and
newly furnished for him with all necessaries, other courte-
Gies were also daily added ; indeed so many, and so freely,
as if they meant their gratitude should exceed his merits;
and in this love-strife of desert and liberality, they continued
for the space of two years, he preaching faithfully and con-
stantly to them, and they liberally requiting him. About
which time the Emperor of Germany died, and the Pals-
grave, who had lately married the Lady Elizabeth, the king's
only daughter, was elected and crowned King of Bohemia,
the unhappy beginning of many miseries in that nation.

King James, whose motto— B^it pacifici — did truly speak

UFB OF DE. DONNE

351

■

very thoughts of his heart, endeavoured first to prevent,
and after to compose, the discords of that discomposed
State: and, amongst other his endeavours, did then send the
Lord Hay. Earl of Doncaster, his ambassador to those un-
settled Princes; and, by a special command from his Maj-
sty. Dr. Donne was appointed to assist and attend that em-
ployment to the princes of the union ; for which the Earl
was most glad, who had always put a great value on him,
and taken a great pleasure in his conversation and dis-
course : and his friends at Lincoln's Inn were as glad, for
they feared that his immoderate study and sadness for his
wife's death would, as Jacob said, "make his days few,"
and, respecting his bodily health, "evil" too; and of this
there were many visible signs.

At his going he left his friends of Lincoln's Inn, and they
him, with many reluctations; for. though he could not say as
St, Paul to his Ephesians, " Behold, you, to whom I have
preached the kingdom of God, shall from henceforth see my
face no more," yet he, believing himself to be in a consump-
tion, questioned, and they feared it : all concluding that his
troubled mind, with the help of his un intermitted studies, has-
tened the decays of his weak body. But God, who is the
God of all wisdom and goodness, turned it to the best; for
this employment — to say nothing of the event of it — did not
only divert htm from those too serious studies and sad
thoughts, but seemed to give him a new life, by a true oc-
casion of joy, to be an eye-witness of the health of his most
dear and most honoured mistress, the Queen of Bohemia, in
a foreign nation; and to be a witness of that gladness which
she expressed to see him ; who, having formerly known him
a courtier, was much joyed to see him in a canonical habit,
and more glad to be an ear-witness of his excellent and
powerful preaching.

About fourteen months after his departure out of England,
he returned to his friends of Lincoln's Inn, with his sorrows
moderated, and his health improved; and there betook him-
self to his constant course of preaching.

About a year after his return out of Germany, Dr. Car^
was made Bishop of Exeter, and by his removal the Deanery
flf St. Paul's being vacant, the King sent to Dr. Donne, sad

IZAAK VALTOar

affdtUd Ubi to attend Um at tSnoer tbe sot dx)-. Vfbm
hi* Majesty tax down, before Im had cat any mat, he said
thtr hit phamit mumcr , *7>r. Doone, I hare innted jtn
to dinner; and, though jtHi tit not down with me. jet i will
carve to jroa ot a diab that 1 know jaa lore well ; for, koow-
iof joa love Londoo. I do therefore make foa Dean of 5l
Paul'* ; and. when I hare dined, then do jm take joar be-
hnred disli home to yottr stitdy, say grace there to jottrid^
and much good may it do you."

Immediatefy after he came to his deanery be anpkiyed
workmen to repair and beautify the chapel; suffering, as
boly David once vowed, "^is eyes and temples to take no
rest tin he had first beautified the boose of God.*^

The next quarter following, when his father-in-law. Sir
George More — whom time had made a lover and adaurer
of him — came to pay to him the coodidooed snm of twenty
pounds, he refused to receive it ; and said, as good Jacob did
when he heard his beloved son Joseph was alive, "It is
enough ;' you have been kind to me and mine. I know jronr
present condition is such as not to abound, and I hope mine
is, or will be such as not to need it: I will therefore receive
no more from you upon that contract;" and in testimony of
it freely gave him up his bond.

Immediately after his admission into his deanery, the
vicarage of St. Dunstan in the West, London, fell to him
by the death of Dr. White, the advowson of it having been
given to him long before by his honourable friend, Richard,
Earl of Dorset, then the patron, and confirmed by his
brother, the late deceased Edward, both of them men of
much honour.

By these, and another ecclesiastical endowment which fell
to him about the same time, given to him formerly by the
Earl of Kent, he was enabled to become charitable to the
poor, and kind to his friends, and to make such provision for
his children that they were not left scandalous, as relating
to their or his profession and quality.

The next Parliament, which was within that present year,
he was chosen Prolocutor to the Convocation, ind about that
time was appointed by his Majesty, his most gracious master.
to preach very many occasional sermons, as at St. Paul's

4

4

LIFE OP DE. DONNE

353

P

Cross, and other places. Al! which employments he per-
formed to the admiration of the representative body of the
whole clergy of this nation.

He was once, and but once, clouded with the King's dis-
pleasure, and it was about this time; which was occasioned
by some maUcious whisperer, who had told his Majesty that
Dr. Donne had put on the general humours of the pulpits, and
was become busy in insinuating a tear of the King's inclin-
ing to Popery, and a dislike of his govemuient ; and particu-
larly for the King's then turning the evening lectures into
catechising, and expounding the Prayer of our Lord, and of
the Belief and Commandments. His Majesty was the more
inclinable to believe this, for that a person of nobility and
great note, betwixt whom and Dr. Donne there had been a
great friendship, was at this very time discarded the court —
I shall forbear his name, unless I had a fairer occasion — and
justly committed to prison ; which begot many rumours in
the common people, who in this nation think they are not
wise unless they be busy about what they understand not,
and especially about religion.

The King received this news with so much discontent and
restlessness, that he would not suffer the sun to set and
leave him under this doubt; but sent for Dr. Donne, and
required his answer to the accusation ; wliich was so clear
and satisfactory, that the King said "he was right glad he
rested no longer under the suspicion." When the King had
said this, Dr. Donne kneeled down and thanked his Majesty,
and protested his answer was faithful, and free from all col-
lusion, and therefore, "desired that he might not rise till, as
in like cases, he always had from God, so he might have
from his Majesty, some assurance that he stood clear and
fair in his opinion." At which the King raised him from his
knees with his own hands, and "protested he believed him;
and that he Itnew he was an honest man. and doubted not
but that he loved him truly." And, having thtis dismissed
him, he called some lords of his council into his chamber,
and said with much earnestness, "My doctor is an honest
man; and, my lords, I was never better satisfied with an
answer than he hath now made me; and I always rejoice
when I think that by my means he became a divine."

UC— Vol. 15—12

954

IZAA£ WALTON

He was made dean in the fiftieth year of his age ; and
his fifty-fourth year a dangerous sickness seized him, which
inclined him to a consumption : but God, as Job thankfully
acknowledged, preserved his spirit, and kepi his intellectuals
as clear and perfect as when that sickness first seized his
body; but it continued long, and threatened him with death,
which he dreaded not.

In this distemper of body, his dear friend, Dr. Henry KJng,
— then chief residentiary of that church, and late Bishop of
Chichester, — a man generally known by tlie clergy of this
OBtion, and as generally noted for his obliging nature, visited
him daily; and observing that his sickness rendered his
recovery doubtful, he chose a seasonable time to speak to
him to this purpose:

" Mr, Dean, 1 am, by your favour, no stranger to your
temporal estate, and you are no stranger to the offer lately
made us, for the renewing a lease of the best Prebend's corps
belonging to our church ; and you know 'twas denied, for that
our tenant being very rich, offered to fine at so low a rate as
held not proportion with his advantages: but I will either
raise him to a higher sum, or procure that the other restden-
liaries shall join to accept of what was offered; one of these
I can and will by your favour do without delay, and without
any trouble either to your body or mind: I beseech you to
accept of my offer, for I know it will be a considerable addi-
tion to your present estate, which I know needs it."

To this, after a short pause, and raising himself ui>oii bis
bed, he made this reply:

" My most dear friend. I most humbly thank you for your
many favours, and this in particular; but in my present con-
dition I shall not accept of your proposal; for doubtless there
is such a sin as sacrilege; if there were not, it could not have
a name in Scripture; and the primitive clergy were watchful
against all appearances of that evil; and indeed then all
Christians looked upon it with horror and detestation, judg-
ing it to be even an open defiance of the power and prov-
idence of Almighty Cod, and a sad presage of a declining
religion. But instead of such Christians, who had selected
times set apart to fast and pray to God, for a pious clergj',
which they then did obey, our times abound .with mec tbst

:

LIFE OP DR. DONNE

355

are busy and litigious about trifles and church ceremonies,
and yet so far from scrupling sacrilege, that tliey malie not so
much as a qua;re what it is: but I thank God I have; and
dare not now upon my sick-bed, when Almighty God hath
made me useless to the service of the Church, make any
advantages out of it. But if He shall again restore me to
such a degree of health, as again to serve at his altar, I shall
then gladly take the reward which the bountiful benefactors
of this church have designed me; for God knows my children
and relations will need it In which number, my mother —
whose credulity and charity has contracted a very plentiful
to a very narrow estate — must not be forgotten. But, Dr.
King, if I recover not, that little worldly estate that I shall
leave behind me — that very httle, when divided into eight
parts — must, if you deny me not so charitable a favour, fall
into your hands, as my most faithful friend and executor,
of whose care and justice I make no raore doubt than of
God's blessing, on that which I have conscientiously collected
for tliem ; but it shall not Le augmented on my sick 'bed ; and
this I declare to be my unalterable resolution."

The reply to this was only a promise to observe his re-
quest.

Within a few days his distempers abated; and as his
strength increased, so did his thankfulness to Almighty God,
testified in his most excellent Book of Devotions, which he
published at his recovery; in which the reader may see the
most secret thoughts that then possessed his soul, para-
phrased and made public : a book that may not unfitly be called
a sacred picture of spiritual ecstasies, occasioned and appli-
able to the emergencies of that sickness ; which book, being
a composition of meditations, disquisitions, and prayers, he
writ on his sick-bed; herein imitating the holy patriarchs,
who were wont to build their altars in that place where they
had received their blessings.

This sickness brought him so near to the gates of death, and
he saw the grave so ready to devour him, that he would often
say his recovery was supernatural: but that God that then
restored his health continued it to him till the Sfty-ninth year
of his life; and then, in August 1630, being with his eldest
daughter, Mrs. Harvey, at Abury Hatch, in Essex, he there

3S6

IZAAK WALTON

i^''

fell into a fever, which with the help of his constant infirmity
— vapours from the spleen — hastened him into so visible a
consumption that his beholders might say, as St. Paul of
himself, " He diea daily;" and he might say with Joh, " My
welfare passelh away as a cloud, the days of my afBiction
have taken hold of nic, ami weary nights arc appointed
for me."

Reader, litis sickness continued long, not only weakening,
hut wearying him so much, that my desire is he may now take
some rest: and that before I speak of his death, thou wilt not
think it an impertinent digression lo look back with me upon
some observations of his life, which, whilst a gentle slumber
give rest to his spirits, may, I hope, hot unfitly exercise thy
^consideration.

His marriage was the remarkable error of his life — an error
which, though he had a wit able and very apt to maintain
paradoxes, yet he was very far from justifying it ; and thou^
his wife's competent years, and other reasons, might be justly
urged to moderate severe censures, yet he would occasionally
condemn himself for it; and doubtless it bad been attended
with an heavy repentance, if God had not blessed them with
so mutual and cordial affections, as in the midst of their
sufferings made their bread of sorrow taste more pleasantly
than the banquets of dull and low-spirited people.

The recreations of his youth were poetry, in which he was
so happy, as if nature and all her varieties had been made only
to exercise his sharp wit and high fancy ; and in those pieces
which were facetiously composed and carelessly scattered —
most of thein being written before the twentieth year of his
age — it may appear by his choice metaphors that both nature
and all the arts joined to assist him with their utmost skill.

It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing some of
those pieces that had been loosely — God knows, too loosely —
scattered in his youth, he wished they had been abortive, or so
ahort -lived that his own eyes had witnessed their funerals;
but. though he was no friend to them, he was not so fallen out
with heavenly poetry as to forsake that ; no, not in his declin-
ing age; witnessed then by many divine sonnets, and other
high, holy, and harmonious composures. Yea, even, on his
former sick-bed h« wrote this heavenly hymn, expressing the

I

UFE OP DR. DONNE

357

great joy that then possessed his soul in the assurance of
God's favour to him when he composed it —

AN HYMN

TO GOD THE FATBER.

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun.

Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run.

And do run still, though still 1 da deplore?
When thou hast done, thou bast not done,

For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin, which 1 have won
Others to sin. and made my sin their door?

Wilt thou forgive that sin which 1 did Dhun
A year or two; — bat wallow'd in a score?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done.

For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I've spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ;

But swear by thyself. Ihat nl my death thy Son
Shail shine as he shines now, and heretofore;

And having done that, tbou hast done,

I fear no more.

I have the rather mentioned this hymn, for that he caused it
to be set to a most grave and solemn tune, and to be often
sung to the organ by the choristers of St, Paul's Church, in
his own hearing, especially at the evening service; and at
his return from his customary devotions in that place, did
occasionally say to a friend, " The words of this hymn have
restored to me the same thoughts of joy that possessed my
soul in my sickness, when I composed it. And, O the power
of church-music I that harmony added to this hymn has raised
the affections of my heart, and quickened my graces of zeal
and gratitude; and I observe that I always return from
paying this public duty of prayer and praise to God, with
an unexpressible tranquillity of mind, and a wiUingness to
leave the world,"

After this manner the disciples of our Saviour, and the
best of Christians in those ages of the church nearest to his
time, offer their praises to Almighty God. And the reader of
St Augustine's life may there find that towards his dissolution

us

IZAAK WALTON

he wept abnndantly, that the enemies of Christianity had
broke in upon them, and profaned and mined their sanctu-
aries, and because their public hymns and lauds were lost
out of their churches. And after this manner have many
devout souls lifted up their hands and offered acceptable sac-
rifices unto Almighty God, where Dr. Donne offered his, and
now lies buried.

But now, O Lord ! how is that place become desolate !'

Before I proceed further, I think fit to inform the reader,
that not long before his death he caused to be drawn a figure
of the body of Christ extended upon an anchor, like those
which painters draw when they would present us with
the picture of Christ crucified on the cross: his varjing no
otherwise, than to affix hira not to a cross, but to an anchor —
the emblem of hope ; — this he caused to be drawn in little, and
then many of those figures thus drawn to be engraven veiy
small in Heliotropium stones, and set in gold; and of these he
sent to many of his dearest friends, to be used as seals, or rings,
and kept as memorials of him, and of his affection to them.

His dear friends and benefactors. Sir Henry Goodier and
Sir Robert Drewry, could not be of that number; nor could
the Lady Magdalen Herbert, the mother of George Herbert,
for they bad put off mortality, and taken possession of the
grave before him : but Sir Henry Wotton, and Dr. Hall, the
then late deceased Bishop of Norwich, were ; and so were Dr.
Duppa, Bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, Bishop of
Chichester — lately deceased, — men in whom there was such a
commixture of general learning, of natural eloquence^ and
Christian humility, that they deserve a commemoration by
a pen equal to their own. which none have exceeded.

And in this enumeration of his friends, though many must
he omitted; yet that man of primitive piety, Mr. Gt-orge
Herbert, may not; I mean that George Herbert who was
the author of The Temple, or Sacred Poems and Efoadalionf.
A book ii, which, by declaring his own spiritual conflicts, he
hath comforted and raised many a dejected and discomposed
sou! and charmed them into sweet and quiet thoughts; a book,
by the frequent reading whereof, and the assistance of ihal
spirit that seemed to inGpirc the author, the reader may attaiii

>t69G

LIFE or DR. DONNE

ata

habits of peace and piety, and ail the gifts of the Holy Ghost
and heaven; and may, by still reading, still keep those sacred
fires burning upon the altar of so pure a heart, as shall free
it from the anxieties of this world, and keep it fixed upon
things that are above. Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr.
Donne there was a long and dear friendship, made up by such
a sympathy of inclinations, that they coveted and joyed to be
in each other's company; and this happy friendship was still
inaintained by many sacred endearments; of which that which
followeth may be some testimony.

TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT

SENT aiM WITH ONE OF MY SEAJ.S OF THE ANCHOR *HD CHHIST

A Sheaf of Snaket used Heretofore to be my Seal, which it the Crtst
of our poor family

Qui prius oBSuetus serpentum falce labellas

Signart, hxc Dostrx sytnbola parva dom^^
Adacitus domiu DomiDi —

Adopted in God's family, and so

My old coat lost, into new Arms I go.

The Cross, my Seal in Baptism, spread below.

Does by that form into an Aacbor grow.

Crosses grow Anchors, bear as thou shouldst 4»

Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor toO-

Bul he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus,

la Christ, wbo there is cruciSed for us.

Yet with this I may my iirBt Serpecls hold; —

God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old— -

The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be;

My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.

And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure

He is my death; but on the Cross, my cure.

Crucify nature then; and then implore

All grace from him, crucified there before.

When all is Cross, and tbat Cross Anchor gromi

This Seal's a Catechism, not a Seal alone.

Under that little Sea! great gifts I send.

Both works and prayers, pawtis and fruits of a friend.

Oh 1 may that Saint that rides on our Great Seal,

To yon that bear his name, large bounty deal.

JOBN DoxKii,

KO

IZAAK WALTON

IM SAOAK ANCBOIUII FISCATDUS

GEORGE HERBERT

QnM Crux nequibsl filn clawique adilitir—
Tenae Cbristuin scilicet ne licenderet,
Toivc Chriatom —

Although the Crou coutd not here Christ detain,

Wlien oaii'd unto X but he ascends again ;

Nor yci thy eloquence here keep him still.

Bui only whilst thou speak'st — this Anchor will :

Nor canst thou be content, unless thou to

This certain Anchor add a Seal : and so

The water and the earth both unto thee

Do owe the symbol of their certainty.

Let the world reel, we and all our'a stand sure.

This holy cable's from all storms secure.

I return to tell the reader that, besides these verses to his
dear Mr. Herbert, and that hymn that I mentioned to be
sung in the choir of Sl Paul's Church, he did also shorten and
beguile many sad hours by composing other sacred ditties ; and
he writ an h>'mn on his death-bed which bears this title;

AN HYMN TO GOD, MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS
March 7$, 1630

Since 1 am coming to that holy room,

Where, with thy Choir of Saints, for evermore
I shall be made thy music, aa I come

I tune my instrument here at the door.

And, what I must do then, think here before;
Since my Phy5icians by their loves ate grown

Cosmographers ; and I their map, who lye
Flat on this bed-
So, in his porple wrapt, reedve my lj>rd t

0y these his thorns, give me bis other Crown !
And, as to other souls 1 preach'd thy word.

Be this my teit, niy sermon to mine own.

"That he may raise; therefore the Lord throws down."

If these fall under the censure of a soul whose too much
mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge of these high rap-
tures and illumiuations, let him know, that many holy and

LIFE OP DR. DONNE

3S1

iJevout men have thought the soul of Prodentiue to be most
refined, when, not many days before his dcatii, " he charged it
to present his God each morning and evening with a new and
spiritual song;" justified by the example of King David and
the good King Hezekiah, who, upon the renovation of his
years paid his thankful vows to Almighty God in a royal
hymn, which he concludes in these words: "The Lord
was ready to save; therefore I will sing my songs to the
stringed instruments all the days of my life in the temple
of my God."

The latter part of his life may be said to be a continued
study ; for as he usually preached once a week, if not oftener,
so after his sermon he never gave his eyes a rest, till he had
chosen out a new text, and that night cast his sermon into
a. form, and his text into divisions ; and the next day betook
himself to consult the fathers, and so commit his meditations
to his memory, which was excellent. But upon Saturday he
usually gave himself and his mind a rest from the weary
burthen of his week's meditations, and usually spent that day
in visitation of friends, or some other diversions of his
thoughts; and would say, "that he gave both his body and
mind that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the
work of the day following, not faintly, but with courage and
cheerfulness."

Nor was his age only so industrious, but in the most un-
settled days of his youth his bed was not able to detain him
beyond the hour of four in the morning; and it was no com-
mon business that drew hira out of his chamber till past ten;
all which time was employed in study ; though he look great
liberty after it. And if this seem strange, it may gain a belief
by the visible fruits of his labours; some of which remain as
testimonies of what is here written : for he left the resultance
of 1400 authors, most of them abridged and analysed with his
own hand; he left also six score of his sermons, all written
with his own hand ; also an exact and laborious treatise con-
cerning self-murder, called Biathanatos; wherein all the laws
violated by that act are diligently surveyed, and judiciously
censured: a treatise written in his younger days, which alone
might declare him then not only perfect in the civil and canon
law but in immy other such studies and arguments as enter

^]

301

IZAAK WALTOK

not into the consideration of many that labour to be thougtit
great clerks, and pretend to know all things.

Nor were these only found in his study, but all businesses
that passed of any public consequence, either in this or any of
our neighbour nations, he abbreviated either in Latin, or in
the language of that nation, and kept them by him for useful
memorials. So he did the copies of divers letters and cases of
conscience that had concerned his friends, with his observa-
tions and solutions of them; and divers other businesses of
importance, all particularly and methodicaUy digested by
himself.

He did prepare to leave the world before life left him,
making his will when no facility of his soul was damped or
made defective by pain or sickness, or he surprised by a sud-
den apprehension of death : hut it was made with mature de-
liberation, expressing himself an impartial father, by making
his children's portions equal ; and a lover of his friends, whom
he remembered with legacies fitly and discreetly chosen and
bequeathed. I cannot forbear a nomination of some of them;
for meihinks they be persons that seem to challenge a recor-
dation in this place; as namely, to his brother-in-law, Sir
Thomas Grimes, he gave that striking clock, which he had
long worn in his pocket ; to his dear friend and executor. Dr.
King, — late Bishop of Chichester — that model of gold of the
Synod of Dort, with which the States presented him at his last
being at the Hague; and the two pictures of Padre Paolo
and Fulgentio, men of his acquaintance when he travelled
Italy, and of great note in that nation for their remarkable
learning. — To his ancient friend Dr. Brook, — that married
him — Master of Trinity College in Cambridge, he gave the
picture of the Blessed Virgin and Joseph. — To Dr. Winniff,
who succeeded him in the Deanery, he gave a picture called
the Skeleton. — To the succeeding Dean, who was not then
known, he gave many necessaries of worth, and tiseful for
his house ; and also several pictures and ornaments for the
chapel, with a desire that they might be registered, and re-
main as a legacy to his successors. — To the Earls of Dorset
and Carlisle he gave several pictures : and so he did to many
other friends ; legacies, given rather to express his affection,
than to make any addition to their estates : but unto the poor

4

LITE OP DR. DONSE

KS

he was full of charity, and unto many others, who, by his
constant and long- continued bounty, might entitle themselves
to be his alms-people: for all these he made provision, and so
largely, as, having then six children living, might to some
appear more than proportionable to his estate. I forbear to
mention any more, lest the reader may think I trespass upon
his patience: but I will beg his favour, to present him with
the beginning and end of his will.

" In the name of the blessed and glorious Trinity, Amen,
I, John Donne, by the mercy of Christ Jesus, and by the
calling of the Church of England, priest, being at this time
in good health and perfect understanding, — praised be God
therefore — do hereby make my last will and testament in
manner and form following,

"First, I give my gracious God an entire sacrifice of body
and soul, with my most humble thanks for that assurance
which his blessed Spirit imprints in me now of the salvation
of the one, and the resurrection of the other ; and for that
constant and cheerful resolution, which the same Spirit hath
established in me, to hve and die in the religion now pro-
fessed in the Church of England. In expeciation of that
resurrection, I desire my body may be buried^ — in the most
private manner that may be— in that place of St. Paul's
Church, London, that the now residentiaries have at my
request designed for that purpose, etc. — And this my last will
and testament, made in the fear of God, — whose mercy I
humbly beg, and constantly rely upon in Jesus Christ — and
in perfect love and charity with all the world — whose pardon
I ask, from the lowest of my servants, to the highes* of my
superiors — written all with my own hand, and my name sub-
scribed to every page, of which there are five in number.

" Sealed December 13, 1630."

Nor was this blessed sacrifice of charity expressed only at
his death, but in his life also, by a cheerful and frequent
visitation of any friend whose mind was dejected, or his
fortune necessitous; he was inquisitive after the wants of
prisoners, and redeemed many from prison that lay for their
fees or small debts: he was a continual giver to poor scholars,
both of this and foreign nations. Besides what he gave with

OAAK WALTOW

liu owo band, be vsialij taa 2 scnraal, or a discreet
trutt7 friend, to distribute bis charity to all the prisons in
Loodoo, at an tbe festival tintes of the year, especially at the
birib and rcstuTcctioa of our Saviour. He gave aa buodred
pounds at one time to an old friend, whom be had IcnowD
live plentifully, and !>}- a too liberal bean and carelessness
became decayed in his estate; and when the receiving of it
was denied by the gentleman's saying, ** He wanted noit; " for
the reader may note, that as there be some spirits so generaos
as to labour to conceal and endure a sad poverty, rather than
e:(pose themselves to those blushes that attend the confession
of it; so there be others, to whom nature and grace have
atiorded such sweet and compassionate souls, as to pity and
prevent the distresses of mankind ; — which I have mentioned
because of Dr. Donne's reply, whose answer was: "I know
you want not what will sustain nature; for a little will do
that ; but my desire is, that you, who in the days of your
plenty have cheered and raised the hearts of so many of your
dejected friends, would now receive from me. and use it as a
cordial for the cheering of your own: " and upon these terms
it was received. He was an happy reconciler of many differ-
ences in the families of his friends and kindred, — which he
never undertook faintly ; for such undertakings have usually
faint effects — and they had such a faith in his judgment and
impartiality, that he never advised them to any thing in vain.
He was, even to her death, a most dutiful son to his mother,
careful to provide for her supportation, of which she
had been destitute, but thai God raised him up to prevent
her necessities ; who having sucked in the religion of the
Roman Church with the mother's milk, spent her estate in
foreign countries, to enjoy 3 liberty in it, and died in his
house but three months before him.

And to the end it may appear how just a steward he was
of his lord and master's revenue, I have thought fit to let the
reader know, that after his entrance into his Deanery, as he
numbered his years, he at the foot of a private account, to
which God and his angels were only witnesses with him, —
computed first his revenue, then what was given to the poor,
and other pious uses; and lastly, what rested for him and
his; and having done that, he then blessed each year's poor

LIFE OF DR. DONNE 365

remainder with a thankful prayer; -which, for that they dis-
cover a tnorc than common devotion, the reader shall partake
some of them in his own words:

So all is that remains this year — [1624-5].

Deo Opt. Max. benigno largitori, i me, et ab iis quibus hsc
a me reservantur, Gloria et gratia in •eternum. Amen.

Translated thus.

To God all Good, all Great, the benevolent Bestower, by
me and by them, for whom by me these sums are laid up,
be glory and grace ascribed for ever. Amen.

So that this year [1626] God hath blessed me and mine
with: —

Multiplicatic sunt super nos misericordiK tux, Domine.

Translated thus.
Thy mercies, O Lord ) are multiplied upon us.

Da, Domine, ut qtue ex immensa bonitate tua nobis dargiri
dignatus sis, in quorumcunque manus devenerint, in tuam
semper cedant gloriam. Amen.

Translated thus.

Grant, O Lord I that what out of thine infinite bounty
thou hast vouchsafed to lavish upon us, into whosoever hands
it may devolve, may always be improved to thy glory. Amen.

In fine horura sex annorum manet: — [1628-9].

Quid habeo quod non accept i Domino? Largitur edam
ut quae largjtus est sua iterum fiant, bono eorum usu; ut
quemadmodum nee officiis hujus mundi, nee loci in quo me
pOGuit dignitati, nee servis, nee egenis, in toto hujus anni
curriculo mihi conscius sum me defuisse; ita et liberi, quibus
qua supersunt, superaunt, grato animo ea accipiant, et bene*
ficum authorem recognoscant. Amen.

IZAAE WALTON

TkAN SLATED TBDS.

At the end of these six years remains : —

What have I, which I have not received from the Lord?
He bestows, also, to the intent that what he hath bestowed
may revert to hira by the proper use of it i that, as I have
not consciously been wanting to myself during the whole
course of the past year, either in discharging my secular
duties, in retaining the dignity of my station, or in my conduct
towards my servants and the poor, — so my children for whom
remains whatever is remaining, may receive it with gratitude,
and acknowledge the beneficent Giver. Amen,

But I return from my long digression.

We left the author sick in E^sex, where he was forced to
spend much of that winter, by reason of his disability to re-
move from that place; and having never, for almost twenty
years, omitted his personal attendance on his Majesty in that
month, in which he was to attend and preach to him;
nor having ever been left out of the roll and number of
L*nt preachers, and there being then — in January 1630 — a
report brought to London, or raised there, that Dr. Donne
was dead; that report gave him occasion to write the fol-
lowing letter to a dear friend:

" Sir, — This advantage you and my other friends have by
my frequent fevers, that I ara so much the oftener at the gates
of heaven; and this advantage by the solitude and close im-
prisonment that they reduce me to after, that I am so much
the oftener at my prayers, in which I shall never leave out
your happiness; and I doubt not, among his other blessings,
God will add some one to you for my prayers. A man would
almost be content to die, — if there were no other benefit in
death, — to hear of so much sorrow, and so much good testi-
mony from good men, as I — God be blessed for it — did upon
the report of my death: yetl perceive it went not through all;
for one writ to me, that some — and he said of my friends —
conceived that I was not so ill as 1 pretended, but withdrew
myself to live at ease, discharged of preaching. It is an
unfriendly, and, God knows, an ill-grouoded Interpretation;

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

387

for I have always been sorrier when I could not preach than
any could be they could not hear me. It hath been my
desire, and God may be pleased to grant it, thai I might die
in the pulpit ; if not that, yet that I might take my death in
the pulpit : that is. die the sooner by occasion of those labours.
Sir, I hope to see you presently after Candlemas ; about which
time will fall my Lent sermon at court, excep* my Lord
Chamberlain believe me to be dead, and so leave me out of
the roil: but as long as I live, and am not speechless, I would
not willingly decline that service, I have better leisure to
write, than you to read; yet I would not willingly oppress
you with too much letter. God so bless you and your son,

^ ^ """^^ *° Your poor friend and servant

in Christ Jesus,

J, Donne,"

Before that month ended, he was appointed to preach upon
his old constant day, the first Friday in Lent: he had notice of
itj and had in his sickness so prepared for that employment,
that as he had long thirsted for it, so he resolved his weak-
ness should not hinder his journey ; he came therefore to Lon-
don some few days before his appointed day of preaching. At
his coming thither, many of his friends — who with sorrow
saw his sickness had left him but so much flesh as did only
cover his bones — doubted his strength to perform that task,
and did thereof persuade him from undertaking it, assuring
him however, it '.ifas like to shorten his life : but he passion-
ately denied their requests, saying " he would not doubt that
that God, who in so many weaknesses had assisted him with
an unexpected strength, would now withdraw it in his last
employment ; professing an holy ambition to perform that
sacred work." And when, to the amazement of some of the
beholders, he appeared in the pulpit, many of them thought
he presented himself not to preach mortification by a hving
voice, but mortality by a decayed body and a dying face.
And doubtless many did secretly ask that question in Eiekiel,
— "Do these bones live? or, can that soul organise that
tongue, to speak so long time as the sand in that glass will
move towards its centre, and measure out an hour of this
dying man's unspent life? Doubtless it cannot" And yet.

IZAAK WALTON

after some faJnt psMset in bis zealous prayer, hts strong
desires enabled his weak body to discharge his memory of
bis preconceived meditations, which were of dying; the text
being, " To God the Lord belong the issues from death."
Many that then saw his tears, and heard his faint and hollow
voice, professing they thought the text prophetically chosen,
&nd that Dr. Donne had preached his own funeral sermon.

Being full of joy that God had enabled him to perform this
desired duty, he hastened to his house; out of which he never
moved, till, like St. Stephen, " he was carried by devout men
to his grave."

The next day after his sermon, his strength being much
wasted, and his spirits so spent as indisposed him to business
or to la1k,a friend that had often been a witness of his free and
facetious discourse asked him, "Why are you sad ?" To whom
he replied, with a countenance so full of cheerful gravity, as
gave testimony of an inward tranquillity of mind, and of a
aoul willing to take a farewell of this world ; and said, —

'■ I am not sad: tut most of the night past I have enter-
tained myself with many thoughts of several friends that have
left me here, and are gone to that place from which they
shall not return; and that within a few days I also shall go
hence, and be no more seen. And my preparation for this
change is become my nightly meditation upon my bed, which
ray inSrmities have now made restless to me. But at this
present time, I was in a serious contemplation of the prov-
idence and goodness of God to me; to me, who am less than
the least of his mercies: and looking back upon ray life past,
1 now plainly see it was his hand that prevented me from all
temporal employment ; and that it was his will I should never
settle nor thrive till I entered into the ministry; in which I
have now lived almost twenty years — I hope to his glory, —
and by which, I most humbly thank him, I have been enabled
to requite most of those friends which showed me kindness
when my fortune was very low, as God knows It was; and —
as it hath occasioned the expression of my gratitude I thank
God most of them have stood in need of my requital. I have
lived to be useful and comfortable to my good father-in-law.
Sir George More, whose patience God hath been pleased to
exercise >vith many temporal crosses; 1 have maintained

I

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

369

i

»

my own mother, whom it hath pleased God, after a plentiful
fortune in her younger days, to bring to great decay in her
very old age. I have quieted the consciences of many that
have groaned under the burthen of a wounded spirit, whose
prayers I hope are available for me, I cannot plead innocency
of life, especially of niy youth; hut I am to be judged by a
merciful God, who is not willing to see what I have done
amiss. And though of myself I have nothing to present to
him but sins and misery, yet I know he looks not upon rae
now as I am of myself, but as I am in my Saviour, and hath
given me, even at this present time, some testimonies by his
Holy Spirit, that I am of the number of his elect: I am
therefore full of inexpressible joy, and shall die in peace."

I must here look so far back, as to tell the reader that at his
first return out of Essex, to preach his last sermon, his old
friend and physician, Dr. Fox — a man of great worth — came
to him to consult his health; and tliat after a sight of him,
and some queries concerning his distempers, he told him,
" That by cordials, and drinking milk twenty days together,
there was a probability of his restoration to health;" but he
passionately denied to drink it. Nevertheless, Dr. Fox, who
loved him most entirely, wearied him with solicitations, till
he yielded to take it for ten days; at the end of which time
he told Dr. Fox, " He had drunk it more to satisfy him, than
to recover his health; and that he would not drink it ten
days longer, upon the best moral assurance of having twenty
years added to his life; for he loved it not; and was so far
from fearing death, which to others is the King of Terrors,
that he longed for the day of dissolution."

It is observed that a desire of glory or commendation is
rooted in the very nature of man ; and that those of the
severest and most morti6ed lives, though they may become so
humble as to banish self- flattery, and such weeds as natu-
rally grow there; yet they have not been able to kill this
desire of glory, but that like our radical heat, it will both live
and die with us; and many think it should do so; and we want
not sacred examples to justify the desire of having our mem-
ory to outlive our lives; which I mention, because Dr. Donne,
by the persuasion of Dr. Fox, easily yielded at this very time
to have a monumont made for hitn; but Dr. Fox under-

IZAAK WAI.TOK

took not to persuade him how, or what monament it should
be; that was left to Dr. Donne himself.

A monument being resolved upon, Dr. Donne sent for a
Carver to make for him in wood the figure o( an urn, giving
hira directions for the compass and height of it; and to bring
with it a board, of just the height of his body. " These being
got, then without delay a choice painter was got to be in
readiness to draw his picture, which was taken as followeth. —
Several charcoal fires being first made in his large study, he
brought with him into that place his winding-sheet in his
hand, and having put off all his clothes, had this sheet put
on him, and so tied with knots at his head and feet, and his
hands so placed as dead bodies are usually fitted, to be
shrouded and put into their coffin, or grave. Upon this urn
he thus stood, with his eyes shut, and with so much of the
sheet turned aside as might show his lean, pale, and death-
like face, which was purposely turned towards the east, from
whence he expected the second coming of his and our Saviour
Jesus," In this posture he was drawn at his just height; and
when the picture was fully finished, he caused it to be set by
his bed-side, where it continued and became his hourly object
till his death, and was then given to his dearest friend and
executor Dr. Henry King, then chief residentiary of St.
Paul's, who caused him to be thus carved in one entire piece
of white marble, as it now stands in that church; and by Dr.
Donne's own appointment, these words were to be affixed to
it as an epitaph:

JOHANNES DONNE-
SAC THIOL, PROFESS.
e08T VARIA STVnlA. OVISt/S A8 AKMIB
TBNXEBTUIS rtDELITElt, HEC IMPEUCITER
INCVBVIT ;
rSSTlMCIV ET IKPVLSV ST. SANCTI, UOKITV

ET HOST AT V

REGIS JACOBI, OBD1N£S SACBQS AUPLeXVS,

ANN SVI JESV, MDCXIV. ET SVX XTATIS XLtl.

DECANATV HVJVS ECCLES1A INDVTVS,

XXVII. NOVeMSmS, MDCXXI.

BJCVTVS U01T2 VtTIMO MB MABTII. UDCKKM.

HIC LICET IM OCCIDVO CINEHE, ASPICIT EVM

CVJVS MOUZH tBT OaiEKS.

LIFE OF DR. DONNE

371

And now, having brought him through the tuany labyrinths
and perplexities of a various hfe, even to the gates of death
and the grave ; my desire is, he may rest till I have told my
reader that I have seen many pictures of him, in several
habits, and at several ages, and in several postures: and I now
mention this, because I have seen one picture of him, drawn
by a curious hand, at his age of eighteen, with his sword, and
what other adornments might then suit with the present
fashions of youth and the giddy gaieties of that age; and his
motto then was —

How much shall I be changed.

Before 1 ani changed I

And if that young and his now dying picture were at this
time set together every beholder might say. Lord ! how much
is Dr. Donne already changed, before he is changed ! And the
view of them might give my reader occasion to aak himself
with some amazement, " Lord ! how much may I also, that am
now in health, be changed before I am changed ; before this
vile, this changeable body shall put off mortality ! " and there-
fore to prepare for it. — But this is not writ so much for my
reader's memento, as to tell him that Dr. Donne would often
in his private discourses, and often publicly in his sermons,
mention the many changes both of his body and mind;
especially of his mind from a vertiginous giddiness; and
would as often say, " His great and most blessed change was
from a temporal to a spiritual employment;" in which he
was so happy, that he accounted the former part of his life
to be lost; and the beginning of it to be from his first entering
into sacred orders, and serving his most merciful God at his
altar.

Upon Monday, after the drawing this picture, he took hia
last leave of his beloved study; and, being sensible of his
hourly decay, retired himself to his bed-chamber; and thai
week sent at several times for many of his most considerable
friends, with whom he took a solemn and deliberate farewell,
commending to their considerations some sentences useful for
the regulation of their hves; and then dismissed them, as good
Jacob did his sons, with a spiritual benediction. The Sunday
following, he appointed his servants, that if there were anj;

m

IZAAK WALTON

btisfness yet undone that concerned him or themselves, it
should be prepared against Saturday next; for after that day
he would not mix his thoughts with anything that concern^
this world; nor ever did; but, as Job, so he "waited for the
appointed day of his dissolution."

And now he was so happy as to have nothing to do but to
die. to do which, he stood in need of no longer time; for he
had studied it long, and to so happy a perfection, that in a
former sickness he called God to witness ' " He was that
minute ready to deliver his soul into his hands if that minute
God would determine his dissolution." In that sickness he

I begged of God the constancy to be preserved in that estate for
ever; and his patient expectation to have his immortal soul
disrobed from her garment of mortality, makes me confident
that he now had a modest assurance that his prayers were
then heard, and his petition granted. He lay fifteen days ear-
nestly expecting his hourly change ; and in the last hour of
bis last day, as his body melted away, and vapoured into spirit,
his soul having, I verily believe some revelation of the beati-
fical vision, he said, " I were miserable if I might not die; "

■ and after those words, closed many periods of his faint breath
by saying often, " Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." His
speech, which had long been his ready and faithful servant,
left him not till the last minute of his life, and then forsook
him, not to serve another master—for who speaks like him,
— but died before him; for that it was then become useless to
him, that now conversed with God on earth, as angels are
said to do in heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being
speechless, and seeing heaven by that illumination by which
he saw it, he did, as St, Stephen, " look steadfastly into it,
till he saw the Son of Man standing at the right hand of
God his Father;" and being satisBed with this blessed Mght,
as his soul ascended, and his last breath departed from him,
he closed his own eyes, and then disposed his hands and body
into such a posture as required not the least alteration hy
those that came to shroud him.

Thus variable, thus virtuous was the life: thus excellent,
thus exemplary was the death of this memorable man.

' In hiA Book of tDcvotiona written thira.

(LIFE OF DR. DOKNB

37S

He was buried in that place of St. Paul's Church, which he
had appointed for thai use some years before his death; and
by which he passed daily to pay his public devotions to
Almighty God — who was then served twice a day by a public
form of prayer and praises in that place; — but he was not
buried privately, though he desired it; for, beside an unnum-
bered number of others, many persons of nobility, and of
eminence for learning, who did love and honour him in his
life, did show it at his death, by a voluntary and sad attend-
ance of his body to the grave, where nothing was so re-
markable as a public sorrow.

To which place of hia burial some mournful friends re-
paired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the grave of the
famous Achilles, so they strewed his with an abundance of
curious and costly flowers; which course, they — who were
never yet known^ — continued morning and evening for many
days, not ceasing, till the stones, that were taken up in that
church, to give his body admission into the cold earth — now
his bed of rest, — were again by the mason's art so levelled
and firmed as they had been formerly, and his place of burial
undistinguishable to common view.

The next day after his burial, some unknown friend, some
one of the many lovers and admirers of his virtue and learn-
ing, writ this epitaph with a coal on the .wall over his
grave;—

Reader t I am to let thee know.

Donne's Body only lies below;

For, could the grave bis Soul compriM,

Earth would be richer than the Skies 1

Nor was this all the honour done to his reverend ashes ; for,
as there be some persons that will not receive a reward for
that for which God accounts himself a debtor; persons that
dare trust God with their charity, and without a witness ; so
there was by some grateful unknown friend, that thought Dr.
Donne's memory ought to be perpetuated, an hundred marks
sent to his faithful friends' and executors, towards the making
of his monument. It was not for many years known by
whom ; but, after the death of Dr. Fox, it was known that it
was he that sent it ; and he lived to see as lively a representa-

> Dr. Kins and Dr. MontEocd.

sn

IZAAK WALTON

tion of his dead friend as marble can expreis: a statne indeeiS
so like Dr. Donne, that — as his friend Sir Henry Wotton hath
expressed himself—"' It seems to breathe faintly, and posterity
ahail look upon it as a kind of artificial miracle."

He was of stature moderately tall ; of a straight and equally-
proportioned body, to which all his words and actions gave afi
uoespressible addition of comeliness.

The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so con-
tempered, that each gave advantage to the other, and made
his company one of the delights of mankind.

His fancy was nnimitably high, equalled only by his great
wit; both being made useful by a commanding judgment.

His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent testi-
mony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience at peace
with itself.

His melting eye showed that he had a soft heart, full of
noble compassion: of too brave a soul to offer injuries, and
too much a Christian not to pardon them in others.

He did much contemplate — especially after he entered into
his sacred calling — the mercies of Almighty God. the immor-
tality of the soul, and the joys of heaven: and would often
say in a kind of sacred ecstasy, — "Blessed be God that he is
God, only and divinely like himself."

He was by nature highly passionate, but more apt to telnet
at the e^Tcesses of it A great lover of the offices of humanity,
and of so merciful a spirit, that he never beheld the miseries
of mankind without pity and relief.

He was earnest and unwearied in the search of knowledge,
with which his vigorous soul is now satisfied, and employed
in a continual praise of that God that first breathed it into
his active body : that body, which once was a temple of the
Holy Ghost, and is now become a small quantity of Christian
dust :—

But I shall see it re-animated.

Fei. 15, 1639. I. W.

THE LIFE OF
MR. GEORGE HERBERT

■^

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

"For ihe life of thai great erample of holiiteu, Mr. George
Herbert, I prnfets it to be Ho far a free-wilt offering, that il teas
tvril chiefly to please myielf, bul yet not without some respect
to fioitfrily: for though he was not a man thai Ike nert age
can forget, yet many of his particular acts and virtues might
hai'f been neglected, or tost, if J had not collected and presented
them to tlie imitation of those that shall succeed us: for I humbly
conceive wn'd'tig to he both a safer and truer preserver of men's
virtuous actions titan tradition; especially as il is managed in
this age. And I am also to tell the Reader, lltat though this
Life of Mr. Herbert was not by me mil in haste, yd I intended
il a rtvitw before U should be made public; bul that was not
allowed me, l>y reason of my absence from London when it was
printing; SO that the Reader may find in it some mistakes, some
double expressions, and some not very proper, and some thai
might have been coHlraclcd,and some faults Ihat are not justly
thargtahtt upon me. but ihe printer; and yel I hope none to
great, as may not, by this confession, purchase pardon from a
gaod-Hatared Render."— from Itaak Walton's lntroduc^o% u

G'

THE LIFE OF
MR. GEORGE HERBERT

EORGE HERBERT waa bom the third day of April,
in the year of our redemption 1593. The place of his
birth was near to the town of Montgomery, and in
that castle that did then bear the name of that town and
county; that castle was then a place of state and strength,
and had been successively happy in the family of the Her-
berts, who had long possessed it; and with it, a plentiful es-
tate, and hearts as liberal to their poor neighbours. A
family that hath been blessed with men of remarkable wis-
dom, and a willingness to serve their country, and, indeed, to
do good to all mankind; for which they are eminent: But
alas ! this family did in the late rebellion suffer extremely in
their estates; and the heirs of that castle saw it laid level
with that earth that was too good to bury those wretches
that were the cause of it.

The father of our George was Richard Herbert, the son of
Edward Herbert, Knight, the son of Richard Herbert,
Knight, the son of the famous Sir Richard Herbert of Cole-
brook, in the county of Monmouth, Banneret, who was the
youngest brother of that memorable William Herbert, Earl
of Pembroke, that lived in the reign of our King Edward
the Fourth.

His mother was Magdalen Newport, the youngest daugh-
ter of Sir Richard, and sister to Sir Francis Newport of
High Arkall, in the county of Salop, Knight, and grand-
father of Francis Lord Newport, now Controller of his
Majesty's Household. A family that for their loyalty have
suffered much in their estates, and seen the ruin of that
excellent structure where their ancestors have long lived,
and been memorable for their hospitality.

37?

378

tZAAK WALTON

This mother of George Herbert — of whose person, and
wisdom, and virtue, I intend to give a true account in 3
seasonable place — was the happy mother of seven sons and
three daughters, which she would often say was Job's num-
ber, and Job's distribution; and as often bless God, that they
were neither defective in their shapes nor in their reason;
and very often reprove them that did not praise God for so
great a blessing. I shall give the reader a short account of
their names, and not say much of their fortunes.

Edward, the eldest, was 6rst made Knight of the Bath, at
that glorious time of our late Prince Henry's being installed
Knight of the Garter; and after many years' useful travel,
and the attainment of many languages, he was by King
James sent ambassador resident to the then French king,
Lewis the Thirteenth. There he continued about two years;
but he could not subject himself to a compliance with the
humours of the Duke de Luisens, who was then the great
and powerful favourite at court: so that upon a complaint
to our King, he was called back into England in some dis-
pleasure; but at bis return he gave such an honourable ac-
count of his employment, and so justified his comportment to
the Ehike and all the court, that he was suddenly scut back
upon the same embassy, from which he returned in the be-
ginning of the reign of our good King Charles the First,
who made him first Baron of Castleisiand, and not long after
of Cherbury in the county of Salop. He was a man of great
learning and reason, as appears by his printed book De
Veritate, and by his History of the iJeigrt of King Henry the
Eighth, and by several other tracts.

The second and third brothers were Richard and William,
who ventured their lives to purchase honour in the wars of
the Low Countries, and died ofBcers in that employment.
Charles was the fourth, and died fellow of New College in
Oxford, Henry was the sixth, who became a menial servant
to the crown in the days of King James, and hath continued
to be so for fifty years; during all which time he hath been
Master of the Revels, a place that requires a dihgent wisdom,
with which God hath blessed him. The seventh son was
Thomas, who. being made captain of a ship in that fleet with
which Sir Robert Mansell was sent against Algiers, did there

4

I

I

I

4

LIFE OP GEORGE HERBERT

379

show a fortunate and true English valour. Of the three
sisters I need not say more than that they were all married
to persons of worth and plentiful fortunes; and lived to be
examples of virtue, and to do good in their generations.

I now come to give my intended account of George, who
was the fifth of those seven brothers.

George Herbert spent much of his childhood in a sweet
content under the eye and care of his prudent mother, and
the tuition of a chaplain, or tutor to him and two of his
brothers, in her own family, — for she was then a widow, —
where he continued till about the age of twelve years; and
being at that time well instructed in the rules of grammar,
he was not long after commended to tbe care of Dr. Neale,
who was then Dean of Westminster; and by him to the care
of Mr. Ireland, who was then chief master of that school;
where the beauties of his pretty behaviour and wit shined,
and became so eminent and lovely in this his innocent age,
that he seemed to be marked out for piety, and to become
the care of heaven, and of a particular good angel to guard
and guide him. And thus he continued in that school, till he
came to be perfect in the learned languages, and especially
in the Greek tongue, in which he after proved an excellent
critic.

About the age of fifteen — he being then a King's scholar —
he was elected out of that school for Trinity College in Cam-
bridge, to which place he was transplanted about the year
i6oS; and his prudent mother, well knowing that he might
easily lose or lessen that virtue and innocence which her
advice and example had planted in his mind, did therefore
procure the generous and liberal Dr. Nevil, who was then
Dean of Canterbury, and master of that College, to take him
into his particular care, and provide him a tutor; which he
did most gladly undertake, for he knew the excellencies of
his mother, and how to value such a friendship.

This was the method of his education, till he was settled
in Cambridge; where we will leave him in his study, till I
have paid my promised account of his excellent mother; and
I will endeavour to make it short.

I have told her birth, her marriage, and the number of her
childreo, and have given some abort accotmt of them. I

980

12AAK WAX-TON

shall nott tell the reader that her husband died when our
George was about the age of four years: I am next to tell,
that she continued twelve years a widow ; that she then mar-
ried happily to a noble gentleman, the brother and heir of
the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who did highly value
both her person and tiie most excellent endowments of her
mind.

In this lime of her widowhood, she being desirous to give
Edward, her eldest son, such advantages of learning, and
other education, as might suit his birth and fortune, and
thereby make him the more fit for the service of his country,
did, at his being of a fit age, remove from Montgomery
Castle with him, and some of her younger sons, to Oxford;
and having entered Edward into Queen's College, and pro-
vided him a fit tutor, she commended him to his care, yet
she continued there with him, and still kept him in a mod-
erate awe of herself, and so much under her own eye, as to
see and converse with him daily : but she managed this power
over him without any such rigid sourness as might make
her company a torment to her child; but with such a
sweetness and compliance with the recreations and pleasures
of youth, as did incline him willingly to spend much of his
time in the company of his dear and careful mother; which
was to her great content: for she would often say, "That
as our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on
which we feed ; so our souls do as insensibly take in vice by
the example or conversation with wicked company :" and
would therefore as often say, "That ignorance of vice was
the best preservation of virtue; and that the very knowledge
of wickedness was as tinder to inflame and kindle stn and
keep it burning." For these reasons she endeared him to her
own company, and continued with him in Oxford four years;
in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful
gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an ac-
quaintance and friendship with most of any eminent worth
or learning that were at that time in or near that university,
and particularly with Mr. John Donne, who then came acci-
dentally to that place, in this time of her being there. It
was that John Donne, who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean
of St Paul's, London: and he, at bis leaving Oxford, writ

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERt

381

I

and left there, in verse, a character of the beauties of her
body and mind : of the first he says.

No spring nor amnnier-tieauty has such grace.
As 1 bave seen in an autumDS) face.

Of the latter be says.

In all her words to every bearrr fit.
You may at revela, or at council sit.

The rest of her character may be read in his printed

poems, in that elegy which bears the name of "The Autumnal
Beauty." For both he and she were then past the meridian
of man's life.

This amity, begun at this time and place, was not an amity
that polluted their souls ; but an amity made up of a chain of
suitable inclinations and virtues; an amity Hke that of St.
Chrysostom's to his dear and virtuous Olympias; whom, in
his letters, he calls his saint : or an amity, indeed, more like
that of St. Hierome to his Paula; whose affection to her was
such, that he turned poet in his old age, and then made her
epitaph ; wishing all his body were turned into tongues that
he might declare her just praises to posterity. And this
amity betwixt her and Mr. Donne was begun in a happy
time for him, he being then near to the fortieth year of his
age, — which was some years before he entered into sacred
orders; — a time when his necessities needed a daily supply
for the support of his wife, seven children, and a famUy.
And in this time she proved one of his most bountiful ben-
efactors; and he as grateful an acknowledger of it. You
may take one testimony for what I have said of these two
worthy persons, from this following letter and sonnet: —

"Maham,

"Your favours to me are everywhere : I use them and have
them. I enjoy them at London, and leave them there; and
yet find tbem at Mitcham. Such riddles as these become
things inexpressible; and such is your goodness. I was al-
most sorry to find your servant here this day, because I was
loth to have any witness of my not coming home last night.
And indeed of my coming this morning. But my not coming

drtained me; and

aS yaar St. iUij

te seek tint whicfa

-&>£. {mm lier and myself I

n> one to wfaon we owe all

vr need aoa, Iutc of

enod day, I commit d»e

ior the matier,

ihe fire — to yoor

H ran ifajnk tbem

tt du i cd soooct to

MTV&nt,

)nai to be so

Jo DOKNE."

1"^; '

Pi tlie frieadshiii,

bttvir; tbese two ex-

n^^ Ol t l g ij letters in my

W Slid of faer ft«at pradence

■ot •» wme bers, bat tbe lite

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

3B3

of her son; and therefore I shall only tell my reader, that
about that very day twenty years that this letter was dated,
and sent her, I saw and heard this Mr. John Donne — who
was then Dean of SL Paul's — weep, and preach her funeral
sermon, in the Parish Church of Chelsea, near London,
where she now rests in her quiet grave; and where we
must now leave her, and return to her son George, whom
we left in his study in Cambridge.

And in Cambridge we may find our George Herbert's be-
haviour to be such, that we may conclude he consecrated the
first-fruits of his early age to virtue, and a serious study of
learning. And that he did so, this following letter and son-
net, which were, in the first year of his going to Cambridge,
sent his dear mother for a New Year's gift, may appear to
be some testimony : —

". . , But I fear the heat of my late ague hath dried up
those springs by which scholars say the Muses use to take
up their habitations. However, I need not their help to re-
prove the vanity of those many love-poems that are daily
writ and consecrated to Venus; nor to bewail that so few
are writ that look towards God and heaven. For my own
part, my meaning — dear mother — is, in these sonnets, to de-
clare my resolution to be, that my poor abilities in poetry
shall be all and ever consecrated to God's glory: and I beg
you to receive this as one testimony."

My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee.

Wherewith whole shoala of Martyrs once did burn.

Besides their other flamea? Dolh Poetry
Wear Venus' livery f only serve her turn ?
Why are not Sonnets made of thee? and lays

Upon thine altar burnt? Cannot thy love

Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise
Aa well B3 any she ? Cannot thy Dove
Outstrip their Cupid easily in Bight?

Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same.

Will not a verse run sinooth >hat bears thy name?
Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might

Each breast dacs feel, no braver fuel choose

Than that, which one day, worms may chance refuse?
Sure, Lord, there is enough in thee to diy

Oceans of ink; for as the Deluge did

Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty;
Each cloud distils thy praise, and doth forbid

IZAAE WALTON

Tota la tnra ■( W Bdckcr aic

BtMci and S&a ftak Tk« : Md M nttkc
A pair af ckccka of tben. U tllr aboK.

Why Adirid I MBca's on for oysul ute?

So^ poor f«Tf bna b a mi ia ikcir low tmad
Wkoae Sre ■> wiU, laddMh aol uyr d ^
To pr»ite, md «■ tb<e. Lord. »timt isk brrtmr.

Opes tk boBO, sad ran itaB aothiac fiad
Ib tbe brat free Ud Elch : ahm Lord, in Tliee
Tbc bcautr lira ia die di«ooTCi7. f. j.

This was bis rcsolutioo al tbe seadbtg this lener to his
dear mother, shoot which time he was in the seventeenth
j-ear of his age ; and as be grew otder, so he grew in leam-
ing, aiKl nu)Te and more in iavour both with God and man:
inMnwch that, in this momii^ of that short day of his life,
he seemed to be marked oat for virtue, and to become the
care of Heaven; for God still kepi bh soul in so hoi; a
frame, that he may, and ought to be a pattern of virtue to
all posterity, and especially to bis brethren of the clergy, ol
which the reader may expect a more exact account in what
will follow.

t need not declare that he was a strict student, because,
that he waa so, there will be many testimonies in the future
part of his life. I shall therefore only tell, that he was made
Minor Fellow in the year 1609, Bachelor of Arts in the year
161I; Major Fellow of the Cdlege, March 15th, 1615: and
that in that year he was also made Master of Arts, he being
then in the twenty-second year of his age; during all which
time, all, or the greatest diversion from his Study, was the
practice of music, in which he became a great master; and
of which he would say, " Tiiat it did relieve his drooping
spirits, compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weaiy
soul »o far above earth, that it gave him an earnest of the
Joys of heaven, before he possessed them." And it may bc
nolcd, tliat from his first entrance into the college, the gen-
erous Dr. Ncvil was a cherisher of his studies, and such a
lover tii his person, his behaviour, and the excellent endow*
mcnls of his mind, that he took him often into his own com-
pany; by which he confirmed his native gentleness: and if
during; liis time he expressed any error, it was that he kept
himself too much retired, and at too great a distance with

UFE OP GEORGE HERBERT

385

all his inferiors; and his clothes seemed to prove that he put
too great a value on his parts and parentage.

This may be some account of his disposition, and of the
employment of his time till he was Master of Arts, which
was anno 1615, and in the year 1619 he was chosen Orator
for the University. His two precedent Orators were Sir
Robert Naunton and Sir Francis Nethersole. The first was
not long after made Secretary of State, and Sir Francis,
not very long after his being Orator, was made secretary to
the Lady Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia. In this place of
Orator our George Herbert continued eight years; and man-
aged it with as becoming and grave a gaiety as any had ever
before or since his time. For " he had acquired great learn-
ing, and was blessed with a high fancy, a civil and sharp
wit; and with a natural elegance, both in his behaviour, his
tongue, and his pen." Of all which there might be very
many particular evidences; but I will limit myself to the
mention of but three.

And the first notable occasion of showing his fitness for
this employment of Orator was manifested in a letter to
King James, upon the occasion of his sending that university
his book called Basilicon Doron; and their Orator was to
acknowledge this great honour, and return their gratitude to
his Majesty for such a condescension; at the close of which
letter he writ,

Quid Vi^icanam Bodleianamque objicii, hospesi
Unicvs est nobis Bibtiotheca Liber.

This letter was writ in such excellent Latin, was so full of
conceits, and all the expressions so suited to the genius of the
King, that he inquired the Orator's name, and then asked
WilHam, Earl of Pembroke, if he knew him? whose answer
was, "That he knew him very well, and that he was bis kins-
man; but he loved him more for his learning and virtue than
for that he was of his name and family." At which answer
the King smiled, and asked the Earl leave that he might love
him too, for he took him to be the jewel of that university.

The next occasion he had and took to show his great abili-
ties was, with them, to show also his great affection to that
Church in which be received his baptism, and of whicli he

HC— Vol. IS— 13

366

IZAAK WALTON

professed himself 3 member; and the occasion was this:
There was one Andrew Melvin, a minister of the Scotch
Church, and Rector of Sl Andrew's; who, by a long and
constant converse with a discontented part of that dergy
which opposed episcopacy, became at last to l>e a chief leader
o£ that faction ; and had proudly appeared to be so to King
James, when he was but King of that nation, who, the second
year after his coronation in England, convened a part of the
bishops, and other learned divines of his Church, to attend
him at Hampton Court, in order to a friendly conference
with some dissenting brethren, both of this and the Church
of Scotland: of which Scotch party Andrew Melvin was one;
and he being a man of learning, and inclined to satirical
poetry, had scattered many malicious, bitter verses against
our Liturgy, our ceremonies, and our Church government;
which were by some of that party so magnified for the wit,
that they were therefore brought into Westminster School,
where Mr, George Herbert, then, and often after, made such
answers to them, and such reflections on him and his Kirk,
as might unbcguile any man that was not too deeply pre-
engaged In such a quarrel. But to return to Mr. Melvin at
Hampton Court conference; he there appeared to be a man
of an unruly wit, of a strange confidence, of so furious a
leal, and of so ungoverned passions, that his insolence to
the King, and others at this conference, lost him both his
Rcctorsliip of St. Andrew's and his liberty too; for his for-
mer verses, and his present reproaches there used against
the Church and State, caused him to be committed prisoner
to the Tower of London ; where he remained very angry for
three years. At which time of his commitment he found the
Lady Arabella an innocent prisoner there; and he pleased
himself much in sending, the next day after his commitment,
these two verses to the good lady; which I will underwrite,
because they may give the reader a taste of his others,
which were Uke these:

Cojua libi mecum est communis, carcerit, Afa-
Bella, tibi eaiua tit, Araqtie sacra mihi,

I shall not trouble my reader with an account of his en-
largement from that prison, or his death ; but tell him Ml.

UPE OP GEORGE HERBERT

387

Herbert's verses were thought so worthy to be preserved,

that Dr. Duport, the learned Dean of Peterborough, hath
lately collected and caused many of them to be printed, as an
honourable memorial of hia friend Mr, George Herbert, and
the cause he undertook,

And in order to my third and last observation of his great
abilities, it will be needful to declare, that about this time
King James came very often to hunt at Newmarket and
Royston, and was almost as often invited to Cambridge,
where his entertainment was comedies, suited to his pleasant
humour; and where Mr. George Herbert was to welcome
him with gratulations, and the applauses of an Orator; which
he always performed so well, that he still grew more into
the King's favour, insomuch that he had a particular ap-
pointment to attend his Majesty at Royston; where, after a
discourse with him, his Majesty declared to his kinsman, the
Ear! of Pembroke, that he found the Orator's learning and
wisdom much above his age or wit. The year following.
the King appointed to end his progress at Cambridge, and to
stay there certain days; at which time he was attended by
the great secretary of nature and all learning. Sir Francis
Bacon, Lord Verulam, and by the ever-memorable and
learned Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, botli which did
at that time begin a desired friendship with our Orator.
Upon whom, the first put such a value on his judgment, that
he usually desired his approbation before be would expose
any of his books to be printed ; and thought him so worthy
of his friendship, that having translated many of the Prophet
David's Psalms into English verse, he made George Herbert
his patron, by a public dedication of them lo him, as the best
Judge of divine poetry. And for the learned Bishop, it is
observable, that at that time there fell to be a modest debate
betwixt them two about predestination, and sanctity of life ;
of both of which the Orator did, not long after, send the
Bishop some safe and useful aphorisms, in a long letter,
written in Greek; which letter was so remarkable for the
language and reason of it, that, after the reading of it,
the Bishop put it into his bosom, and did often show it to
many scholars, both of this and foreign nations; but did
always return it back to the place where he first lodged it,

388

IZAAK WALTON

and continned it so near his heart till the last day of
bis lite.

To this I might add the long and entire friendship betwixt
him and Sir Henry Wotton. and Dr. Donne; but I have
promised to contract myself, and shall therefore only add
one testimony to what is also mentioned in the life of Dr.
Donne ; namely, that a little before his death he caused many
seals to be made, and in them to be engraven the figure of
Oirist. crucified on an anchor, — the emblem of hope, — and of
which Dr. Donne would often say, "Crux mihi anckara." —
These seals he gave or sent to most of those friends on
which he put a value; and, at Mr. Herbert's death, these
verses were found wrapt up with that seal, which was by
(he Doctor given to him:

When my dear friend could write no more,
He gave Ihis Seal and so gave o'er.

When winds and waves fiae highest 1 am sure,
This Anchor keep* my faith, that mc, secure.

At this time of being Orator, he had learned to under-
stand the Italian, Spaiush, and French tongues very per-
fectly: hoping that as his predecessors, so he might in time
attain the place of a Secretary of State, he being at that
time very high in the King's favour, and not meanly valued
and loved by the most eminent and most powerful of the
court nobility. This, and the love of a court conversation,
mixed with a laudable ambition to be something more than
he then was, drew him often from Cambridge, to attend the
King wheresoever the court was, who then gave him a sine-
cure, which fell into his Majesty's disposal, I think, by the
death of the Bishop of St. Asaph. It was the same that
Queen Elizabeth had formerly given to her favourite Sir
Philip Sidney, and valued to be worth an hundred and
twenty pounds per annum. With this, and his annuity, and
the advantage of his college, and of his Oratorship, he en-
joyed his genteel humour for clothes, and court-like com-
pany, and seldom looked towards Cambridge, unless the King
were there, but Ihen he never failed; and, at other times,
left the manage of his Orator's place to his learned frieiu^

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

389

Mr. Herbert Thorndike, who is now Prebend of West-
minster.

I may not omit to tell, that he had often designed to leave
the university, and decline all study, which he thought did
impair bis health; for he had a body apt to a consumption,
and to fevers, and other infirmities, which he judged were
increased by his studies; for he would often say, "He had
loo thoughtful a wit; 3 wit like a penknife in too narrow a
sheath, too sharp for his body." But his mother would by
no means allow him to leave the university, or to travel;
and though he inclined very much to both, yet he would by
no means satisfy his own desires at so dear a rate, as to
prove an undutiful son to so affectionate a mother; but did
always submit to her wisdom. And what I have now said
may partly appear in a copy of verses in his printed poems;
'tis one of those that bear the title of Affliction; and it
appears to be a pious reflectiou on God's providence, and
*otne passages of his life, in which he says, —

Whereas my birth and spirit rather toolc

The way that takes the town :
Thou didst betray me to a lingering book.

And wrapt me in a gown :
I was entangled in a world of strife,
Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet, for I (hreaten'd oft the siege lo raise.

Not simpering all mine age;
Thou often didst with acsderaic praise

Melt and dissolve my rage :
I took the sweeten'd pill, till I came where
I could not go away, nor persevere.

Yet, lest perchance I should too happy be

In my unhappiness,
Turaiog ray purge to fDod, thou throwest me

Into more sickneHca.
Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making
Thine own gifts good, yet me from my ways taking

Now 1 am here, what thou wiit do with me

None of my books will show.
I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree.

For then sure I should grow
To fruit or shade, at least some bird would trurt
Her household with me, and I would be juib

SBO JZAAK WALTON

Yet, though thou troubleal me. 1 miut be meek.

In wEaknesfi must be atout.
Well, I will change my aervice, and go seek

Some other master out;
Ah. my dear God 1 tbouffh I am deaji forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love Ibcc not.

G. H.

In this lime of Mr. Herbert's attendance and expectation
of some good ocecasion lo remove from Cambridge to court,
God, in whom there is an unseen chain of causes, did in
a short time put an end to the lives of two of his most
obliging and most powerful friends, Lodowick Duke of
Richmond, and James Marquis of Hamilton; and not long
after him King James died also, and with them all Mr. Her-
bert's court hopes : so that he presently betook himself to a
retreat from London, lo a friend in Kent, where he lived
very privately, and was such a lover of solitariness, as was
judged to impair his health more than his study had done.
In this time of retirement he had many conflicts with him-
self, whether be should return to the painted pleasures of
a court life, or betake himself to a study of divinity, and
enter into sacred orders, to which his mother had often per-
suaded him. These were such conflicts as they only can
know that have endured them ; for ambitious desires, and
the outward glory of this world, are not easily laid aside;
hut at last God inclined him to put on a resolution to serve
at his altar.

He did, at his return to London, acquaint a court-friend
with his resolution to enter into sacred orders, who per-
suaded him to alter it, as too mean an employment, and too
much below his birtli, and the excellent abilities and endow-
ments of his mind. To whom he replied, " It bath been
formerly judged that the domestic servants of the King of
Heaven should be of the noblest families on earth. And
though the iniquity of the late times have made clergymen
meanly valued, and the sacred name of priest contemptible;
yet I will labour to make it honourable, by consecrating all
my learning, and all my poor abilities to advance the glory
of that God that gave them; knowing that I can never do
too nmch for him, that hath done so much for me as to
make me a Christian. And I will labour to be like my

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

301

N

^

^

Saviour, by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men,
and by following the merciful and tneek example of my dear
Jesus."

This was then his resolution; and the God of constancy,
who intended him for a great example of virtue, continued
him in it, for within that year he was made deacon, but the
day when, or by whom, I cannot learn ; but that he was
about that time made deacon is most certain; for I find by
the records of Lincoln, that he was made Prebend of Layton
Ecclesia, in the diocese of Lincoln, July isth, 1626, and that
this Prebend was given him by John, then Lord Bishop of
that see. And now he had a fit occasion to show that piety
and bounty that was derived from bis generous mother, and
his other memorable ancestors, and the occasion was this.

This Layton Ecclesia is a village near to Spalden, in the
coimty of Huntingdon, and the greatest part of the parish
church was fallen down, and that of it which stood was so
decayed, so little, and so useless, that the parishioners could
not meet to perform their duty to God in public prayer and
praises; and thus it had been for almost twenty years, in
which time there had been some faint endeavours for a
public collection to enable the parishioners to rebuild it; but
with no success, till Mr. Herbert undertook it; and he, by
his own, and the contribution of many of his kindred, and
other noble friends, undertook the re-edification of it; and
made it so much his whole business, that he became restless
till he saw it finished as it now stands ; being for the work-
manship, a costly mosaic; for the form, an exact cross; and
for the decency and beauty, I am assured, it is the most
remarkable parish church that this nation affords. He lived
to see it so wainscotted as to be exceeded by none, and, by
his order, the reading pew and pulpit were a little distance
from each other, and both of an equal height; for he would
often say, "They should neither have a precedency or
priority of the other; but that prayer and preaching, being
equally useful, might agree like brethren, and have an equal
honour and estimation,"

Before I proceed further, I must look back to the time of
Mr. Herbert's being made Prebend, and tell the reader, that
not ioag after, his mother being informed of his intentioik

302

IZAAK WALTON

lo rebuild that church, and apprehending the great trouble
and charge that he was like to draw upon himself, his reia-'
tiuns and friends, before it coutd be finished, sent for him
from London to Chelsea, — where she then dwelt, — and at
bis coming, said, " George, I sent for you, to persuade you
to commit simony, by giving your patron as good a gift as
he lias given to you; namely, that you give him back his pre-
bend; for, George, it is not for your weak body, and empty-
purse, to undertake to build churches." Of which, he desired
be might have a day's time to consider, and then make her
AD answer. And at his return to her the next day, when he
had first desired her blessing, and she given it him. his next
request was, "That she would, at the age of thirty-three
years, allow him to become an undutiful son; for he had
made a vow to God. that, if he were aUe, he would rebuild
that church." And then showed her such reasons for his
resolution, that she presently subscribed to be one of his
benefactors; and imdertook to solicit William Earl of Pem-
broke to become another, who subscribed for fifty pounds;
and not long after, by a witty and persuasive letter from Mr.
Herbert, made it Gfty pounds more. And in this nomination
of some of his benefactors. James Duke of Lenox, and his
brolher, Sir Henry Herbert, ought to be remembered; as
also the bounty of Mr. Nicholas Farrer, and Mr. Arthur
Woodnot: the one a gentleman in the neighbourhood of
Layton, and the other a goldsmith in Foster Lane. London,
ought not to be forgotten : for the memory of such men
ought to outlive their lives. Of Mr, Farrer I shall here-
after give an account in a more seasonable place ; but before
I proceed further, I will give this short account of Mr.
Arthur Woodnot.

He was a roan that had considered overgrown estates do
often require more care and watchfulness lo preserve than
get them, and considered that there be many discontents
that riches cure not; and did therefore set limits to himself,
as to desire of wealth. And having attained so much as to
be able to show some mercy to the poor, and preserve a com-
petence for himself, he dedicated the remaining part of his
life to the service of God, and to be useful to his friends; and
be proved to be so to Mr, Herbert; for besides his own

UFE OP GEOBGE HERBERT

bounty, he collected and returned most of tlie money that
was paid for the rebuUding of that church ; he kept all the
account of the charges, and would often go down to slate
them, and see all the workmen paid. When I have said that
this good man was a useful friend to Mr. Herbert's father,
and to his mother, and continued to be so to him, till he
closed his eyes on his death-bed, I will forbear to say more,
till I have the next fair occasion to mention the holy friend-
ship that was betwixt him and Mr. Herbert. From whom
Mr. Woodnot carried to his mother this following letter,
and delivered it to her in a sickness, which was not long
before that which proved to be her last: —

'A Letter of Mr. George Herbert to his mother, in her
sickness.

" Madam,

" At my last parting from you, I was the better content,
because I was in hope I should myself carry all sickness out
of your family: but since I know I did not, and that your
share continues, or rather increaseth, I wish earnestly that I
were again with you ; and would quickly make good my wish,
but that my employment does fix me here, it being now but
a month to our commencement: wherein my absence, by how
much it naturally augmenteth suspicion, by so much shall it
make my prayers the more constant and the more earnest
for you to the God of all consolation. In the meantime, I
beseech you to be cheerful, and comfort yourself in the God
of all comfort, who is rot willing to behold any sorrow but
for sin. — What hath affliction grievous in it more than for a
moment? or why should our afflictions here have so much
power or boldness as to oppose the hope of our joys here-
after? Madam, as the earth is but a point in respect of the
heavens, so are earthly troubles compared to heavenly joys;
therefore, if either age or sickness lead you to those joys,
consider what advantage you have over youth and healtii.
who are now so near those true comforts. Your last letter
gave me earthly preferment, and I hope kept heavenly for
yourself ; but would you divide and choose too? Our college
customs allow not that: and I should account myself most

3M

rZAAK WALTON

happy, if I might change with yoo; far 1 have always ob-
served the thread of life to be like other threads or skeins
of silk, full of snarles and incumbrances. Happy is he whose
bottom is wound up, and laid ready for work in the New
Jerusalem, For myself, dear mother, I always feared sick-
ness more than death, because sickness hath made me unable
to perform those offices for which I came into the world,
and must yet be kept in it; but you are freed from that fear,
who have already abundantly discharged that part, having
both ordered your family and so brought up your children.
that they have attained to the years of discretion, and com-
petent maintenance. So that now, if they do not well, the
fault cannot be charged on you, whose example and care o£
them will justify you both to th« world and your own con-
science; insomuch that, whether you turn your thoughts on
the life past, or on the joys that are to come, you have
strong preservatives against all disquiet. And for temporal
afflictions, I beseech you consider, all that can happen to
you are either afflictions of estate, or body, or mind. For
those of estate, of what poor regard ought they to be? since,
if we had riches, we are commanded to give them away; so
that the best use of them is having, not to have them. But
perhaps, being above the common people, our credit and
estimation calls on us to live in a more splendid fashion : but,
O God I how easily is that answered, when wc consider that
the blessings in the holy scripture are never given to the
rich, but to the poor. I never find ' Blessed be the rich,' or
•Blessed be the noble'; but 'Blessed be the meek,' and
'Blessed be the poor,' and 'Blessed be the mourners, for
they shall he comforted.' And yet, O God 1 most carry them-
selves so as if they not only not desired, but even feared to
be blessed. And for afflictions of the body, dear madam,
remember the holy martyrs of God, how they have been
burned by thousands, and have endured such other tortures,
as the very mention of them might beget amazement; but
their fiery trials have had an end ; and yours — which, praised
be God, are less— are not like to continue long. I beseech
you, let such thoughts as these moderate your present fc«r
»nd sorrow; and know tliat if any of yours should prove a
Goliah-like trouble, yet you may say with David, ' That God.

r

UPE OF GEORGE HERBERT

395

I

who hath delivered me out of the paws of the lion and hear,
will also deliver ine out of the hands of this uncircumcised
PhiHstine.' Lastly, for those afflictions of the soul ; consider
that God intends that to he as a sacred temple for himself
to dwell in, and will not allow any room there for suclj an
inmate as grief; or allow that any sadness shall be his com-
petitor. And, above all, if any care of future things molest
you, remember those admirable words of the Psalmist : ' Cast
thy care on the Lord, and he shall nourish thee." To which
join that of St. Peter, ' Casting all your care on the Lord,
for he careth for you," What an admirable thing is this,
that God puts his shoulder to our burden, and entertains our
care for us, that we may the more quietly intend his service t
To conclude, let rae commend only one place more to you:
Philipp. iv. 4. St. Paul saith there, ' Rejoice in the Lord
always: and again I say. Rejoice.' He doubles it, to take
away the scruple of those that might say, What, shall we
rejoice in afflictions? Yes, I say again, rejoice; so that it
is not left to us to rejoice, or not rejoice; hut, whatsoever
befalls us, we must always, at all times, rejoice in the Lord,
who taketh care for us. And it follows in the next verses ;
' Let your moderation appear to all men : The Lord is at
hand: Be careful for nothing,' What can be said more com-
fortably? Trouble not yourselves; God is at hand to deliver
us from all, or in all. Dear madam, pardon my boMness,
and accept the good meaning of

Your most obedient son,

Trin. Coll., GeORGE HeSBES-T."

May 25(11, i6ki.

About the year 1629, and the thirty-fourth of his age, Mr.
Herbert was seized with a sharp quotidian ague, and thought
to remove it by the change of air; to which end he went to
Woodford in Essex, but thither more chiefly to enjoy the
company of his beloved brother. Sir Henry Herbert, and
other friends then of that family. In his house he remained
about twelve months, and there became his own physician,
and cured himself of his ague, by forbearing to drink, and
not eating any meat, no not mutton, nor a hen, or pigeon,
unless they were salted; and by such a constant diet he re-

1 Fnlm Iv. u. ' i Peter v. 7.

IZAAK WALTON

moved his ague, but with inconveniences that were worse;
for he brought upon himself a disposition to rheums, and
other weaknesses, and a supposed consumption. And it is
lo be noted that in the sharpest of his extreme fits he would
often say, "Lord, abate my great affliction, or increase my pa-
tience: but Lord, I repine not; I am dumb. Lord, before thee,
because thou doest it." By which, and a sanctified submis-
sion to the will of God, he showed he was inclinable to bear the
sweet yoke of Christian discipline, both then and in the latter
part of his life, of which there will be many true testimonies.

And now his care was to recover from his consumption,
by a change from Woodford into such an air as was most
proper to that end. And his remove was to Dauntsey in
Wiltshire, a noble house, which stands in a choice air; the
owner of it then was the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby,
who loved Mr. Herbert so very much, that he allowed him such
an apartment in it as might best suit with his accommodation
and liking. And in this place, by a spare diet, declining all
perplexing studies, moderate exercise, and a cheerful con-
versation, his health was apparently improved to a good
degree of strength and cheerfulness. And then he declared
his resolution both to marry and to enter into the sacred
orders of priesthood. These had long been the desire of his
mother and his other relations; but she lived not to sec
either, for she died in the year 1627. And though he was
disobedient to her about Layton Church, yet, in conformity
to her will, he kept his Orator's place till after her death,
and then presently declined tt; and the more wilUngly that
he might be succeeded by his friend Robert Creighton, who
now is Dr. Creighton. and the worthy Bishop of Welts.

I shall now proceed to his marriage ; in order to which, it
will be convenient that t first give the reader a short view
of his person, and then an account of his wife, and of some
circumstances concerning both. He was for his person of a
stature inclining towards tallness ; his body was very straight,
and so far from being cumbered with too much tlesh, that
he was lean lo an extremity. His aspect was cheerful, and
his speech and motion did both declare him a gentleman '
for tliey were all so meek and obUging, that they purchased
love and respect from all that knew him.

UFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

397

These, and his other visible virtues, begot him much love
ffrom a gentleman of a noble fortune, and a near kinsman to
his friend the Earl of Danby; namely, from Mr. Charles
IJanvers of Sainton, in the county of Wilts, Esq. This Mr.
Danvers, having known him long, and familiarly, did so
much affect him, that he often and publicly declared a desire
ihat Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine daughters,—
for he had so many, — but rather his daughter Jane than any
other, because Jane was his beloved daughter. And he had
often said the same to Mr. Herbert himself; and that if he
could like her for a wife, and she him for a husband, Jane
should have a double blessing: and Mr. Danvers had so
often said the like to Jane, and so much commended Mr.
Herbert to her, that Jane became so much a platonic as to
fall in love with Mr. Herbert unseen.

This was a fair preparation for a marriage ; but, alas 1 her
father died before Mr. Herbert's retirement to Dauntsey:
yet some friends to both parties procured their meeting; at
which time a mutual affection entered into both their hearts,
as a conqueror enters into a surprised city; and love having
got such possession, governed, and made there such laws
and resolutions as neither party was able to resist; inso-
much, that she changed her name into Herbert the third
day after this first interview.

This haste might in others be thought a love-frenzy, or
worse ; but it was not, for they had wooed so like princes,
as to have select proxies ; such as were true friends to both
parties, such as well understood Mr. Herbert's and her
temper of raind, and also their estates, so well before this
interview, that the suddeimess was justifiable by the strictest
rules of prudence ; and the more, because it proved so happy
to both parties; for the eternal lover of mankind made them
happy in each other's mutual and equal affections, and com-
pliance; indeed, so happy, that there never was any opposi-
tion betwixt them, unless it were a contest which should
most incline to a compliance with the other's desires. And
though this begot, and continued in them, such a mutual
love, and joy, and content, as was no way defective; yet
this mutual content, and love, and joy, did receive a daily
augmentation, by such daily obligingness to each other, as

SOB

IZAAK WALTON

still addled sucli new affluences to the former fulness of these
divine souls, as was ooly improvable in heaven, where they
now enjoy it.

About three months after this marriage. Dr. Curie, who
was then Rector of Benierton. in Wiltshire, was made Bishop
of Bath and Wells, and not long after translated to Win-
chester, and by that means the presentation of a derk to
Bemerton did not fall to the Earl of Pembroke, — who was
the undoubted patron of it,— but to the King, by reason of
Dr. Curie's advancement : but Philip, then Earl of Pembroke,
— for William was lately dead — requested the King to be-
stow it upon his kinsman George Herbert; and the King
said, " Most willingly to Mr. Herbert, if it be worth his ac-
ceptance ;" and the Earl as willingly and suddenly sent it
him, without seeking. But though Mr, Herbert had formerly
put on a resolution for the clergy; yet, at receiving this
presentation, the apprehension of the last great account, that
he was to make for the cure of so many souls, made him
fast and pray often, and consider for not less than a month:
in which time he had some resolutions to decline both the
priesthood and that living. And in this time of considering,
"he endured," as he would often say, "such spiritual conflicts
as none can think, hut only those that have endured them.''

In the midst of these conflicts, his old and dear friend, Mr.
Arthur Woodnot, took a. journey to salute him at Bainton, —
where he then was with his wife's friends and relations — and
was joyful to be an eye-witness of his health and happy
marriage. And after they had rejoiced together some few
days, they took a journey to Wilton, the famous seat of the
Earls of Pembroke; at which time the King, the Earl, and
the whole court were there, or at Sahsbury, which is near
to it. And at this time Mr. Herbert presented his thanks
to the Earl for his presentation to Bemerton, but had not
yet resolved to accept it, and told him the reason why: but
that night, the Earl acquainted Dr. Laud, then Bishop of
London, and after Archbishop of Canterbury, with his kins-
man's irresolution. And the Bishop did the next day so
convince Mr. Herbert that the refusal of it was sin, that a
tailor was sent for to come speedily from Salisbury to
iWihoQ, to make measure, and tsake him canonical clotlies

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

399

against next day; which the tailor did: and Mr. Herbert
tieing so habited, went with his presentation to the learned
Dr. Davenant, who was then Bishop of Salisbury, and he
gave him institution immediately, — for Mr. Herbert had
been made deacon some years before, — and he was also the
same day — which was April 26th, 1630— inducted into the
good, and more pleasant than healthful, parsonage of Bem-
erton, which is a mile from Salisbury.

I have now brought him to the parsonage of Bemerton,
and to the thirty-sixth year of his age, and must stop here,
and bespeak the reader to prepare tor an almost incredible
story, of the great sanctity of the short remainder of his holy
life; a life so full of charity, humility, and all Christian vir-
tues, that it deserves the eloquence of St. Chrysostom to
commend and declare it: a life, that if it were related by a
pen like his, there would then he no need for this age to
look back into times past for the examples of primitive
piety; for they might be all found in the life of George
Herbert. But now, alas! who is fit to undertake it? I
confess I am not; and am not pleased with myself that I
must; and profess myself amazed when I consider how few
of the clergy lived like him then, and how many live so
unlike him now. But it becomes not me to censure: my de-
sign is rather to assure the reader that I have used very
great diligence to inform myself, that I might inform him
of the truth of what follows ; and though I cannot adorn it
with eloquence, yet I will do it with sincerity.

When at his induction he was shut into Bemerton Church,
being left there alone to toll the bell,— as the law requires
him, — he stayed so much longer than an ordinary time, be-
fore he returned to those friends that stayed expecting him
at the church door, that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in
at the church window, and saw him lie prostrate on the
ground before the altar; at which time and place— as he
after told Mr. Woodnot — he set some rules to himself, for
the future manage of his life; and then and there made a
vow to labour to keep them.

And the same night that he had his induction, he said to
Mr, Woodnot, "I now look back upon my aspiring thoughts,
and think myself more happy than if I had attained what

400

IZAAK WALTON

then I so ambitiously thirsted for. And I now can behold
(he court with an impartial eye, and see plainly that it is
made up of fraud and titles, and flattery, and many other
such empty, imaginary, painted pleasures ; pleasures that arc
so empty as not to satisfy when they are enjoyed. But in
God, and his service, is a fulness of all joy and pleasure,
and DO satiety. And 1 will now use all my endeavours to
bring my relations and dependants to a love and reliance on
him, who never fails those that trust him. But above all,
I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous life of a
clergyman is the most powerful eloquence to persuade all
that see it to reverence and love, and at least to desire to
live like him. And this I will do, because 1 know we live
in an age that hath more need of good examples than pre-
cepts. And I beseech that God, who hath honoured me so
much as to call me to serve him at his altar, that as by his
special grace he hath put into my heart these good desires
and resolutions; so he will, by his assisting grace, give me
ghostly strength to bring the same to good effect. And I be-
seech him, that my humble and charitable life may so win upon
Others, as to bring glory to my Jesus, whom I have this day
taken to be my master and governor ; and I am so proud of his
service, that I will always observe, and obey, and do his will;
and always call him, Jesus my Master ; and I will always con-
lemn my birth, or any title or dignity that can be conferred
upon me, when I shall compare them with my title of being a
priest, and serving at the altar of Jesus my Master."

And that he did so may appear in many parts of his book
of Sacred Poems: especially in that which he calls "The
Odour." In which he seems to rejoice in the thoughts of
that word Jesus, and say, that the adding these words, my
master, to it, and the often repetition of them, seemed to
perfume his mind, and leave an oriental fragrancy in his
very breath. And for his unforced choice to serve at God's
altar, he seems in another place of his poems, "The Pearl "
(Matt. xiii. 45, 46), to rejoice and say: " He knew the ways
of learning; knew what nature does willingly, and what,
when it is forced by fire; knew the ways of honour, and
when glory inclines the soul to noble expressions: knew the
court : knew the ways of pleasure, of love, of wit, of music.

LIFE OP GEORGE HERBERT

401

and upon what terms he declined all these for the service
of his master Jesus": and then concludes, saying:

That, through these labyrinths, not my Brovelling wit.

But thy siik twist, let down from Heaven to mc.
Did both conduct, and teach me, how hy it

To climb to thee.

The third day after he was made Rector of Bemcrton,

and had changed his sword and silk clothes into a canonical
coat, he returned so habited with his friend Mr. Woodnot
to Bainton; and immediately after he had seen and saluted
his wife, he said to her — " You are now a minister's wife,
and must now so far forget your father's house as not to
claim a precedence of any of your parishioners ; for you are
to know, that a priest's wife can challenge no precedence or
place, but that which she purchases by her obliging hu-
mility; and I am sure, places so purchased do best become
them. And let me tell you, that I am so good a herald, as
to assure you that this is truth." And she was so meek a
wife, as to assure him, " it was no vexing news to her, and
that he should see her observe it with a cheerful willing-
ness." And, indeed, her unforced humility, that humility
that was in her so original, as to be born with her, made
her so happy as to do so; and her doing so begot her an
unfeigned love, and a serviceable respect from all that
conversed with her ; and this love followed her in all places,
as inseparably as shadows follow substances Jn sunshine.

It was not many days before he returned back to Bemer-
ton, to view the church and repair the chancel: and indeed
to rebuild almost three parts of his house, which was fallen
down, or decayed by reason of his predecessor's living at a
belter parsonage-house; namely, at Minal, sixteen or twenty
miles from this place. At which time of Mr, Herbert's
coming alone to Bemerton, there came to him a poor old
woman, with an intent to acquaint him with her necessitous
condition, as also with some troubles of her mind : but after
she had spoke some few words to him, she was surprised
with a fear, and that begot a shortness of breath, so that
her spirits and speech failed her; which he perceiving, did
so compassionate her, and was so humble, that he took her

Itt

IZAAK WALTON

by the hand, and said, "Speak, good mother; be not afraid
to speak to me; for I am a man that will hear you with
patience; and will relieve your necessities too, :£ I be able:
and this I will do willingly; and therefore, mother, be not
afraid to acquaint me with what you dcBire." After which
comfortable speech, he again took her by the hand, made
her sit down by him, and understanding she was of his
parish, he lold her " He would be acquainted with her, and
take her into his care." And having with patience heard
and understood her wants, — and it is some relief for a poor
body to be but heard with patience, — he, like a Christian
clergyman, comforted her by his meek behaviour and coun-
sel : but because that cost him nothing, he relieved her with
money too, and so sent her home with a cheerful heart,
praising God, and praying for hitn. Thus worthy, and —
like David's blessed man — thus lowly, was Mr, George Her-
bert in his own eyes, and thus lovely in the eyes of others.

At his return that night to his wife at Bainton, be gave
her an account of the passages betwijct him and the poor
woman ; with which she was so affected, that she went next
day to Salisbury, and there bought a pair of blankets, and
sent them as a token of her love to the poor woman; and
with them a message, " that she would see and be acquainted
with her, when her house was built at Bemerton."

There be many such passages both of him and his wife,
of which some few will be related: but I shall first tell, that
he hasted to get the parish church repaired; then to beautify
the chapel, — which stands near his house,^and that at his
own great charge. He then proceeded to rebuild the great-
est part of the parsonage-house, which he did also very com-
pletely, and at his own charge; and having done this good
work, he caused these verses to be writ upon, or engraven
in. the mantel of the chimney in his hall.

TO MY SUCCESSOR

If thoa chaoce for to Sad

A new bouse to thy mind.
And built wilbout thy coat;

Be good to Ihe poor,

A» God gives thee slorc,
An4 Iben cay J^bovr's not lost

LIFE OP GBOEGE HERBERT

403

We will now, by the reader's favour, suppose him fixed at
Bemerton, and grant him to have seen the church repaired,
and the chapel belonging to it very decently adorned at his
own great charge, — which is a real truth; — and having now
fixed him there, I shall proceed to give an account of the
rest of his behaviour, both to his parishioners, and those
many others that knew and conversed with him.

Doubtless Mr. Herbert had considered, and given rules to
himself for his Christian carriage both to God and man, be-
fore he entered into holy orders. And 'tis not unlike, but
that he renewed those resolutions at his prostration before
the holy altar, at his induction into the church of Bemerton:
but as yet he was but a deacon, and therefore longed for the
next ember-week, that he might be ordained priest, and
make capable of administering both the sacraments. At
which time the Reverend Dr. Humphrey Henchman, now
Lord Bishop of London, — who does not mention him hut
with some veneration for his life and excellent learning, —
tells me, "He laid his hand on Mr. Herbert's head, and,
alas ! within less than three years lent his shoulder to carry
his dear friend to his grave."

And that Mr. Herbert might the better preserve those
holy rules which such a priest as he intended to be ought
to observe ; and that time might not insensibly blot them out
of his memory, but that the next year might show him his
variations from this year's resolutions: he therefore did set
down his rules, then resolved upon, in that order as the
world now sees tliem printed in a little book, called The
Country Parson; in which some of his rules are;

The Parson's knowledge.
The Parson on Sundays.
The Parson praying.
The Parson preaching.
The Parson's charily.
The Paison comforting the
sick.

The Parson arguing.
The Parson condescending.
The Parson in his journey.
The Parson in his mirti.
The Parson with his Church-

trardens.
The Parson lilesalng the people.

And his behaviour towards God and man may be said to be
a practical comment on these, and the other holy rules set
down in that useful book: a book so full of plain, prudent,
and useful rules, tliat that country parson that can spare

«H IZAAK WALTOW

twdve pence, and yet vnjits it. is scarce excusable; because
it will both direct him what he ou^t to do, and convince
him for not having done it.

At the death of Mr. Herbert Ihts book fell into the hand;
of his friend Mr. Woodnot; and he commended it into the
trusty hands of Mr, Barnabas Olcy, who published it with a
most conscientious and excellent preface; from which I have
had some of those truths, that arc related in this life of Mr.
Herbert. The text of his 6rst sermon was taken out of
Solomon's Proverbs, chap, iv. 23, and the words were, '' Keep
thy heart with all dihgence." In which first sermon he gave
his parishioners many necessary, holy, safe rules for the dis-
charge of a good conscience, both to God and man ; and
delivered his sermon after a most florid manner, both with
great learning and eloquence ; but, at the close of this ser-
mon, told them, " That should not be his constant way of
preaching; for since Almighty God docs not intend to lead
men to heaven by hard questions, he would not therefore
fill their heads with unnecessary notions : but that, for their
sakes, his language and his expressions should be more plain
and practical in his future sermons." And he then made it
his humble request, " That they would be constant to the
afternoon's service, and catechising;" and showed them con-
vincing reasons why he desired it; and his obliging example
and persuasions brought them to a willing conformity to his
desires.

The texts for alt his future sermons — which God knows
were not many — were constantly taken out of the gospel for
the day; and he did as constantly declare why the Church
did appoint that portion of scripture to be that day read;
and in what manner the collect for every Sunday does refer
to the gospel, or to the epistle then read to them; and, that
they might pray with understanding, he did usually take oc-
casion to explain, not only the collect for every particular
Sunday, but the reasons of ail the other collects and re-
sponses in our Church service; and made it appear to them
that the whole service of the Church was a reasonable, and
therefore an acceptable sacrifice to God : as namely, that we
begin with "Confession of ourselves to he vile, miserable
sinners;" and that we begin to, because, till we have con'

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

40S

»

fessed ourselves to be such, we are not capable of that mercy
which we acknowledge we need, and pray for; but having,
in the prayer of our Lord, begged pardon for those sins
which we have confessed; and hoping, that as the priest hath
declared our absolution, so by our public confession, and
real repentance, we have obtained that pardon ; then we dare
and do proceed to beg of the Lord, "to open our lips, that
our mouth may show forth his praise;" for til! then we are
neither able nor worthy to praise him. But this being sup-
posed, we are then fit to say, "Glory be to the Father, and to
the Son, and to the Holy Ghost;" and fit to proceed to a
further service of our God, in the collects, and psalms, and
lauds, that follow in the service.

And as to the psalms and lauds, he proceeded to inform
them why they were so often, and some of them daily, re-
peated in our Church service; namely, the psalms every
month, because they be an historical and thankful repetition
of mercies past, and such a composition of prayers and
praises, as ought to be repeated often, acd publicly ; for with
such sacrifice God is honoured and well-pleased. This for the
psalms.

And for the hymns and lauds appointed to be daily re-
peated or sung after tlie first and second lessons are read to
the congregation ; he proceeded to inform them, that it was
most reasonable, after they have heard the will and goodness
of God declared or preached by the priest in his reading the
two chapters, that it was then a seasonable duty to rise
up, and express their gratitude to_ Almighty God for those
his mercies to them, and to all mankind ; and then to say
with the Blessed Virgin, "that their souls do magnify the
Lord, and that their spirits do also rejoice in God their
Saviour :" and that it was their duty also to rejoice with
Simeon in his song, and say with him, " That their eyes
have" also "seen their salvation ;" for they have seen that
salvation which was but prophesied till his time: and he
then broke out into these expressions of joy that he did sec
it; but they live to see it daily in the history of it, and there-
fore ought daily to rejoice, and daily to offer up their sacri-
fices of praise to their God, for that particular mercy. A
service, which is now the constant employment of that

408

IZAAK WALTON

Blessed Virgio and Simeon, and all those blessed saints that
are possessed of heaven: and where they are at this time
interchangeably and constantly singing, "Holy, holy, holy,
Lord God; glory be to God on high, and on earth peace."
And he taught them that to do this was an acceptable service
to God, because the Prophet David says in his Psalms, "He
that praiseth the Lord honoureth bim,"

He made them to understand how happy they be that are
freed from the encumbrances of that law which our fore-
fathers groaned under: namely, from the legal sacritices,
and from the many ceremonies of the Lcvitical law; freed
from circumcision, and from the strict observation of the
Jewish Sabbath, and the like. And he made them know, that
having received so many and great blessings, by being bora
ftincc the days of our Saviour, it must be an acceptable sac-
rifice to Almighty God, for them to acknowledge those bless-
ings daily, and stand up and worship, and say as Zacharias
did, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath — in our
days — visited and redeemed his people; and — he hath in our
days — remembered, and showed that mercy, which by the
mouth of the prophets he promised to our forefathers; and
this he has done according to his holy covenant made with
tlieni." And he made them to understand that we live to
sec and enjoy the benefit of it, in his birth, in lus life, his
passion, his resurrection, and ascension mto heaven, where
he now sits sensible of all our temptations and infirmities;
and where he is at this present time making intercession for
us, to his and our Father : and therefore they ought daily to
express their public gratulations, and say daily with Zacha-
rias, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, that hath thus
visited and thus redeemed his people." These were some of
the reasons by which Mr. Herbert instructed his congrega-
tion for the use of the psalms and hymns appointed to be
daily sung or said in the Church service.

He informed them also when the priest did pray only
for the congregation, and not for himself; and when they
did only pray for him; as namely, after the repetition of the
creed before he proceeds to pray the Lord's Prayer, or any
of the appointed collects, the priest is directed to kneel down
and pray for them, saying, "The Lord be with yoaj," and

UFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

407

when they pray for him, saying, "And with thy spirit;" and
then they join together in the following collects: and he
assured them, that when there is such mutual love, and such
Joint prayers offered for each other, then the holy angels
look down from heaven, and are ready to carry such char-
itable desires to God Almighty, and he is ready to receive
them; and that a Christian congregation calling thus upon
God with one heart, and one voice, and in one reverent and
humble posture, looks as beautifully as Jerusalem, that is at
peace with itself.

He instructed them also why the prayer of our Lord is
prayed often in every full service of the Church ; namely, at
the conclusion of the several parts of that service; and
prayed then, not only because it was composed and com-
manded by our Jesus that made it, but as a perfect pattern
for our less perfect forms of prayer, and therefore fittest to
sum up and conclude all our imperfect petitions.

He instructed them also, that as by the second command-
ment we are required not to bow down, or worship an idol,
or false God ; so. by the contrary rule, we are to bow down
and kneel, or stand up and worship the true God, And he
instructed them why the Church required the congregation
to stand up at the repetition of the creeds ; namely, because
they thereby declare both their obedience to the Church,
and an assent to that faith into which they had been bap-
tized. And he taught them, that in that shorter creed or
doxology, so often repeated daily, they also stood up to tes-
tify their belief to be, that "the God that they trusted in was
one Cod, and three persons; the Father, the Son, and the
Holy Ghost; to whom they and the priest gave glory." And
because there had been heretics that had denied some of those
three persons to be God, therefore the congregation stood
up and honoured him, by confessing and saying, "It was so
in the beginning, is now so, and shall ever be so, world with-
out end." And all gave their assent to this belief, by stand-
ing up and saying Amen.

He instructed them also what benefit they had by the
Church's appointing the celebration of hoiy-days and the
excellent use of them, namely, that they were set apart for
^rticular commeraoratiotis of |)articular mercies received

403

IZAAE WALTON

trom Almighty God; and — as Reverend Mr. HocAtct says —
to be the tandmajics to distinguish times; for t^ them we
are taught to take notice how time passes by as. and that
we ought not to let the years pass without a celebradon of
praise for those raerctes which those days gire us occasion
to rcmeinber, and therefore they were to note that the year
is appointed to begin the asih day of March ; a day in which
we conuneinorate the angel's appearing to the Blessed Vir-
gin, with the joyful tidings that "she should conceive and
bear a son, that should be the redeemer of mankind." And
she did so forty weeks after this joyful salutation; namdy.
at our Christmas ; a day in which we commemorate his
birth with joy and praise: and that eight days after this
happy birth we celebrate his circumcision; namely, in that
which wc call New Year's day. And that, upon that day
which we call Twelfth day, we commemorate the manifesta-
tion of the unsearchable riches of Jesus to the Gentiles: and
that that day we also celebrate the memory of his goodness
in sending a star to guide the three wise men from the east
to Bethlehem, that they might there worship, and present
him with their oblation of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
And he — Mr, Herbert — instructed them that Jesus was forty
days after his birth presented by his blessed mother in the
temple; namely, on that day which we call "The Purification
or the Blessed Virgin, Saint Mary." And he inBtructed them
that by the Lent- fast we imitate and comme morale our
Saviour's humiliation in fasting forty days; and that we
ought to endeavour to be like him in purity: and that on
Good Friday we commemorate and condole his crucifixion ;
and on Easter commemorate his glorious resurrection. And
he taught them that after Jesus had manifested himself to
bis disciples to be "that Christ that was crucified, dead and
buried ;" and by his appearing and conversing with his dis-
ciples for the space of forty days after his resurrection, he
then, and not till then, ascended into heaven in the sight of
those disciples; namely, on that day which we call the ascen-
sion, or Holy Thursday. And that we then celebrate the
performance of the promise which he made to his disciples
at or before his ascension ; namely, "that though he left them,
jtt be would send them the Holy Ghost to be their coot-

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

409

forter;" and that he did so on that day which the Church
calls Whitsunday. Thus the Church keeps an historical and
circular commemoration of times, as they pass by us; of such
times as ought to inchne us to occasional praises, for the
particular blessings which we do, or might receive, by those
holy commemorations.

He made ihem know also why the Church hath appointed
ember-weeks ; and to know the reason why the command-
ments, and the epistles and gospels, were to be read at the
ahar or communion table; why the priest was to pray the
Litany kneeling; and why to pray some collects standing:
and he gave them many other observations, fit for his plain
congregation, hut not fit for me now to mention : for I must
set limits to my pen, and not make that a treatise which I
intended to be a much shorter account than I have made it;
but I have done, when I have told the reader that he was
constant in catechising every Sunday in the afternoon, and
that his catechising was after his second lesson, and in the
pulpit ; and that he never exceeded his halt-hour, and was
always so happy as to have an obedient and full con-
gregation.

And to this I must add, that if he were at any time too
zealous in his sermons, it was in reproving the indecencies
of the people's behaviour in the time of divine service; and
of those ministers that huddle up the Church prayers, with-
out a visible reverence and affection ; namely, such as seemed
to say the Lord's Prayer or a collect in a breath. But for
himself, his custom was to stop betwixt every collect, and
give the people time to consider what they had prayed, and to
force their desires afifectionately to God, before he engaged
them into new petitions.

And by this account of his diligence to make his parishion-
ers understand what they prayed, and why they praised and
adored their Creator, I hope I shall the more easily obtain
the reader's belief to the following account of Mr. Herbert's
own practice; which was to appear constantly with his wife
and three nieces — the daughters of a deceased sister — and
his whole family, twice every day at the Church prayers in
the chapel, which does almost join his parsonage-house.
And for the time of his appearing, it was strictly at the can-

410

IZAAK WALTON

onfcal liours of ten and four: and then and here he lifted
up pure and charitable hands to God in the midst of the con-
gregation. And he would joy to have spent that time in that
place, where the honour of his master Jesus dwelleth ; and
there, by that inward devotion which be testified constantly
by an humble behaviour and visible adoration, he, like
Joshua, brought not only "his own household thus to serve
the Lord;" but brought most of bis parishioners, and many
gentlemen in !he neighbourhood, constantly to make a part
of his congregation twice a day : and some of the meaner
sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr, Herbert,
that they would let their plough rest when Mr. Herbert's
saint's-bell rung to prayers, that they might also offer their
devotions to God with him; and would then return back to
their plough. And his most holy life was such, that it begot
such reverence to God, and to him, that tliey thought them-
selves the happier when they carried Mr. Herbert's blessing
hack with them to their labour. Thus powerful was his
reason and example to persuade others to a practical piety
and devotion.

And his constant public prayers did never make him to
neglect his own private devotions, nor those prayers that he
thought himself hound to perform with his family, which
always were a set form, and not long; and he did always
conclude them with a collect which the Church hath appointed
for the day or week. Thus he made every day's sanctity a
Step towards that kingdom, where impurity cannot enter.

His chiefest recreation was music, in which heavenly art he
was a most excellent master, and did himself compose maay
divine hymns and anthems, which he set and sung to bis lute
or viol : and though he was a lover o£ retiredness, yet his
love to muEie was such, that he went usually twice every
i*eek, on certain appointed days, to the Cathedral Church
in Salisbury; and at his return would say, "That his time
spent in prayer, and cathedral-music, elevated his soul, and
was his heaven upon earth." But before bis return thence
to Bemerton, he would usually sing and play his part at an
appointed private music-meeting; and. to justify this prac*
tice, he would often say, " Religion does not banish mirth, but
only moderates and sets rules to it."

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

4H

And as his desire to enjoy his heaven upon earth drew

him twice every week to Salisbury, so his walks thither were
the occasion of many happy accidents to others; of which
' I will mention some few.

In one of his walks to Salisbury, he overtook a gentleman,
that is still living in that city ; and in iheir walk together,
Mr. Herbert took a fair occasion to talk with him, and hum-
bly begged to be excused, i£ he asked him some account of
his faith ; and said, "I do this the rather because though you
are not of my parish, yet I receive tithe from you by the
hand of your tenant; and, sir, I am the bolder to do it, be-
cause I know there he some sermon- bearers that be like those
fishes that always live in salt water, and yet are always
fresh."

After which expression, Mr. Herbert asked him some
needful questions, and having received his answer, gave him
such rules for the trial of his sincerity, and for a practical
piety, and in so loving and meek a manner, that the gentie-
man did so fall in love with him, and his discourse, that he
would often contrive to meet him in his walk to Salisbury,
or to attend him back to Bemerton; and still mentions the
name of Mr. George Herbert with veneration, and still
praiseth God for the occasion of knowing him.

In another of his Salisbury walks he met with a neighbour
minister; and after some friendly discourse betwixt them,
and some condolement for the decay of piety, and too gen-
eral contempt of the clergy, Mr. Herbert took occasion to
Bay:

" One cure for these distempers yould be for the clergy
themselves to keep the ember-weeks strictly, and beg of their
parishioners to join with them in fasting and prayers for a
more religious clergy.

"And another cure would be for themselves to restore the
great and neglected duty of catechising, on which the salva-
tion of so many of the poor and ignorant lay-people does de-
pend; but principally, that the clergy themselves would be
sure to live unblamably; and that the dignified clergy espe-
cially which preach temperance would avoid surfeiting and
take all occasions to express a visible humility and charity
in their lives; for this would force a love and as imitation.

412

IZAAK WALTON

And an unfeigned reverence from all that knew them to be
such." (And for proof of this, we need no other testimony
than the life and death of Dr. Lake, late Lord Bishop of
Bath and Wells.) "This," said Mr. Herbert, "would be a
cure for the wickedness and growing atheism of our age.
And, ray dear brother, till this be done by us, and done in
earnest, let no man expect a reformation of the manners of
the laity; for 'tis not learning, but this, this only that must
do it ; and, till then, the fault must lie at our doors."

In another walk to Salisbury he saw a poor man with a
poorer horse, that was fallen under his load: they were both
in distress, and needed present help; which Mr. Herbert
perceiving, put off his canonical coat, and helped the poor
man to unload, and after to load, his horse. The poor man
blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man; aud was so
like the good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh
both himself and his hurse; and told him, "That if he loved
himself he should be merciful to his beast." Thus he left the
poor roan: and at his coming to his musical friends at Salis-
bury, they began to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, which
used to be so trim and clean, came into that company so
soiled and discomposed : but he told them the occasion. And
when one of the company told him "He had disparaged him-
self by so dirty an employment," his answer was, "That the
thought of what he had done would prove music to him at
midnight; and that the omission of it would have upbraided
and made discord in his conscience, whensoever he should
pass by that place: for if I be hound to pray for all that be
in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in
my power, to practise what I pray for. And though I do
not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you,
I would not willingly pass one day of my life without com-
forting a sad soul, or showing mercy; and I praise God for
this occasion. And now let's tune our instruments."

Thus, as our blessed Saviour, after his resurrection, did
take occasion to interpret scripture to Oeopas, and that
other disciple, which he met with and accompanied in their
journey to Emmaus; so Mr, Herbert, in his path toward
heaven, did daily take any fair occasion to instruct the ig-
norant, or comfcul any that were in affliction ; and did always

LIFE OP GEORGE HERBERT

413

confirm his precepts by showing humility and mercy, and
ministering grace to the hearers.

And he was most happy in his wife's unforced compliance
with his acts of charity, whom he made his alraorer, and
paid constantly into her hand a tenth penny of wha' money
he received for tithe, and gave her power to dispose that to
the poor of his parish, and with it a power to dispose a tenth
part of the corn that came yearly into his barn : whidi trust
she did most faithfully perform, and wouH often offer to
him an account of her stewardship, and as ofteii beg an en-
largement of his bounty; for she rejoiced in the employment:
and this was usually laid out by her in blankets and shoes
for some such ooor peopJe as she knew to stand in most need
of them. This as to her charity, — And for his own, he set
no limits to it: nor did ever turn his face from any that
he saw in want, but would relieve them ; especially bis poor
neighbours; to the meanest of whose houses he would go,
and inform himself of their wants, and relieve them cheer-
fully, if they were in distress; and would always praise God,
as much for being willing, as for being able to do it. And
when he was advised by a friend to be more frugal, because
he might have children, his answer was, "He would not see
the danger of want so far off: but being the scripture does
so commend charity, as to tell us that charity is the top of
Christian virtues, the covering of sins, the fulfilliug of the
law, the life of faith; and that charity hath a promise of the
blessings of this life, and of a reward in that life which is
to come: being these, and more excellent things are in scrip-
ture spoken of thee, O charity 1 and that, being all my tithes
and Church dues are a deodate from thee, O my God I make
me, O my God! so far to trust thy promise, as to return
them back to thee; and by thy grace I will do so, in dis-
tributing them to any of ttiy poor members that are in dis-
tress, or do but bear the image of Jesus my master," "Sir,"
said he to his friend, "my wife hath a competent maiotenaiice
secured her after my death; and therefore, as this is my
prayer, so this my resolution shall, by God's grace, be im-
alterable."

This may be some account of the excellencies of the active
part of his Uie> and thus he continued, till a consumption

4M

rZAAK WALTON

SO weakened hJin as to confine him to bts house, or to the

chapel, which does almost join to it; in which he continued
to read prayers constantly twice every day, though he were
very weak: in one of which times of his reading his wife
observed him to read in pain, and told him so. and that it
wasted his spirits, and weakened him; and he confessed it
did, biit said, his "life could not be better spent than in the
service of his master Jesus, who had done and suffered sq
much for him. But," said he, "I vviU not be wilfuJ; for
though my spirit be willing, yet 1 find my flesh is weak; and
therefore Mr, Bostock shall be appointed to read prayers
for me lo-morrow; and I will now be only a hearer of them,
till this mortal shall put on immortality." And Mr. Boslock
did the next day undertake and continiic this happy eniploy-
ineiit till Mr, Herbert's death. This Mr. Bostock was a
learned an<J virtuous man, an old friend of Mr. Herbert's,
and then his curate to the church of Fulston, which is a
mile from Benierton, to which church Bemerton is but
a chapel of ease. And this Mr. Bostock did also constantly
supply tlie Church service for Mr. Herbert in that chapel,
whtn the music-meeliiig at Sah'sbury caused his absence
from it.

About one month before his death, his friend Mr, Farrer,
' — for an account of whom I am by promise indebted to the
reader, and intend to make him sudden payment, — hearing
of Mr. Herbert's sickness, sent Mr. Edmund Duiicon — who
is now rector of Friar Bamet in the county of Middlesex —
from his house of Gidden Hall, which is near to Hunting-
don, to see Mr. Herbert, and to assure him he wanted not
his daily prayers for his recovery; and Mr. Duiicon was to
return back to Gidden, with an account of Mr. Herbert's
condition. Mr. Duncon found him weak, and at that time
lying on his bed. or on a pallet; but at his seeing Mr. Dun-
con he raised himself vigorously, saluted him, and with some
earnestness inquired the health of his brother Farrer; o£
which Mr. Duncon satisfied him, and after some discourse
of Mr. Farrer's holy life, and the manner of his constant
serving God. he said to Mr. Duncon. — "Sir, I see by your
habit that you are a priest, and 1 desire you to pray with
me;" which being granted, Mr. Duncon asked him, "What

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

415

prayers?" To which Mr. Herbert's answer was, "O sirl

the prayers of my mother, the Church of England : no other
prayers are equal to them 1 But at tliis time 1 beg of you
to pray only the Litany, for I am weak and faint:" and Mr.
Duncon did so. After which, and some other discourse of
Mr. Farrer, Mrs. Herbert provided Mr. Duncon a plain
supper, and a clean lodging, and he betook himself to rest.
This Mr. Duncon tells me ; and he tells me that, at his first
view of Mr. Herbert, lie saw majesty and humility so recon-
ciled in his looks and behaviour, as begot in him an awful
reverence for his person ; and says, "his discourse was so
pious, and his motion so genteel and meek, that after almost
forty years, yet they remain stiU fresh in his memory."

The next morning Mr, Duncon left him, and betook him-
self to a journey to Bath, but with a promise to return back
to him within five days; and he did so: but before I shall
say anything of what discourse then fell betwixt them two,
I will pay my promised account of Mr. Farrer.

Mr. Nicholas Farrer — who got the reputation of being
called St. Nicholas at the age of six years — was bom in
London, and doubtless had good education in his youth ; but
certainly was, at an early age, made Fellow of Clare Hall
in Cambridge; where he continued to be eminent for his
piety, temperance, and learning. About the twenty-sixth
year of his age he betook himself to travel : in which he
added to his Latin and Greek a perfect knowledge of all the
languages spoken in the western parts of our Christiani
world; and understood vrell the principles of their religion,'
and of their manner, and the reasons of their worship. In
this his travel he met with many persuasions to come into a
communion with that Church which calls itself Catholic;
but he returned from his travels as he went, eminent for
his obedience to his mother, the Church of England. In
his absence from England, Mr, Farrer's father — who was a
merchant — allowed hira a liberal maintenance; and, not long
after his return into England, Mr. Farrer had, by the death
of his father, or an elder brother, or both, an estate left him
that enabled him to purchase land to the value of four or
five hundred pounds a year; the greatest part of which land
vas at Little Gidden, four or six miles from Huntingdon,

w

I2AAK WALTON

and about eighteen from Cambridge; which place he chose
for the privacy of it, and £or the hall, which had the parish
church or chapel belonging and adjoining near to it; for
Mr. Farrer, having seen the manners and vanities of the
world, and found them to be, as Mr. Herbert says, "a nothing
between two dishes," did so contemn it, that he resolved to
spend the remainder of his Ufe in mortifications, and in
devotion, and charity, and to be always prepared for death.
And his Ufe was spent thus:

He and his family, which were like a little college, and
about thirty in number, did most of them keep Lent and all
cmher-weeka strictly, both in fasting and using all those
mortifications and prayers that the Oiurch hath appointed
to be then used : and he and they did the like constantly on
Fridays, and on the vigils or eves to be fasted before the
saints' days: and this frugality and abstinence turned to the
relief of the poor: but this was but a part of his charity;
none but God and he knew the rest.

This family, which I have said to be in niunber about
thirty, were a part of them his kindred, and the rest chosen
to be of a temper fit to be moulded into a devout hfe; and
all of them were for their dispositions serviceable, and quiet,
and humble, and free from scandal. Having thus fitted him-
self for his family, he did, about the year 1630, betake him-
self to a constant and methodical service of God; and tt was
in this manner: — I4e, being accompanied with most of his
family, did himself use to read the common prayers — for he
was a deacon — every day, at the appointed hours of ten and
four, in the parish church, which was very near his house,
and which he had both repaired and adorned; for it was
fallen into a great ruin, by reason of a depopulation of ihc
village before Mr. Farrer bought the manor. And he did
also constantly read the matins every tnoming at the hour
of six, either in the church, or in an oratory, which was
within his own house. And many of the family did there
continue with him after the prayers were ended, and there
they spent some hours in singing hymns, or anthems, some-
times in the church, and often to an organ in the oratory.
And there they sometimes betook themselves to meditate,
or to pray privately, or to read a part of the New Testa-

4

UFE OF GEORGE HERBI

ment to tbemselves, or to contimte their p ra jiag o>
tbe ps&Ims ; and in case tb« psalms wxre dm ahMfs
the day, then Mr, Fairer and others of the coQCrq
at night, at the ringing of a u-atch-btll, repair ta die i
or oratory, and there betake ihcniseives to p n^ x an
ing God, and reading the psalms that had not becB ivad HI
tbe day: and when these, or any part of the capg m aikifc
grew weary or faint, tlie watch-bell was rvng, sonOMes
before, and sometimes after midnight ; and then anotber pur
of the famil)' rose, and maintained the watch. sooMliBMs hj
praying, or singing lauds to God, or reading tiK ^alBt;
and when, after some hours, they also grew weary or iinM,
then they rung the watch-bell and were also reli«*-ed by !
of the former, or by a new part of tlie society, whidi
tinued their devotions — as haih been mentioned — until aram-
ing. And it is to be noted, that iu this continued servinc of
God, the psaJler or the whole book of psalms, was in dfcry
four and twenty hours sung or read over, from the first to the
last verse: and this was done as constantly ns (he sun nms
fats circle every day about the world, and then begins again
the same instant that it ended.

Thus did Mr. Farrer and his happy family serve God day
and night ; thus did tliey always behave theniseh-es as in his
presence. And they did always eat and drink by the strictest
rules of temperance; eat and drink so as to be ready to rise
at midnight, or at the call of the watdi-bdl, and perform
their devotions to God. And it is fit to tell ihc reader, ih.^t
many of the clergy, that were more inclined to pructtc.il
piety and devotion than to doubtful and ntedli^ss di^putaiions,
did often come to Gtdden Hall, and make themselves a part
of that happy society, and stay a week or more, ajid then
join with Mr, Farrer and the family in these devotions, and
assist and ease him or them in their watcli by night. And
these various devotions had never less tlian two of the do-
mestic family in the night; and the walch was always kept
in the church or oratory, unless in extreme cold winter niKhlx,
and then it was maintained in a parlour, which had u fire hi it ;
and the parlour was fitted for that purpose. And this course
of pie^, and great Hberality to his poor neighbours, Mr.
Farrer maintained till his death, which was in the year 163^.

HC— Vol. IB— 14

<I8

IZAAK WALTON

Mr. Farrer's and Mr. Herbert's devout lives were both so
noted, that the general report of their sanctity gave them
occasion to renew that sHght acquaintance which was begun
at their being contemporaries in Cambridge; and this new
holy friendship was long maintained without any interview,
but only by loving and endearing letters. And one testimony
vi their friendship and pious designs may appear by Mr,
Farrer's commending the Considerations of John Valdesso —
a bocJc which he had met with in his travels, and translated
out of Spanish into English — to be examined and censored
by Mr. Herbert before it was made public: which excellent
book Mr. Herbert did read, and return back with many mar-
ginal notes, as they be now printed with it; and with them,
Mr. Herbert's aSectionate letter to Mr. Farrer.

This John Valdesso was a Spaniard, and was for his learn-
ing and virtue much valued and loved by the great Emperor
Charles the Fifth, whom Valdesso had followed as a cavalier
all the time of his long and dangerous wars: and when Val-
desso grew old, and grew weary both of war and the world,
he took his fair opportunity to declare to the Emperor that
his resolution was to decline his Majesty's service, and be-
take himself to a quiet and contemplative life, "because
there ought to be a vacancy of time betwixt fighting and
dying." The Emperor had himself, for the same, or other
Uke reasons, put on the same resolution; but God and himself
did, till then, only know them; and he did therefore desire
Valdesso to consider well of what he had said, and to keep
his purpose within his own breast, til! they two might have
a second opportunity of a friendly discourse; which Val-
desso promised to do.

In the meantime the Emperor appoints privately a day for
him and Valdesso to meet again; and after a pious and free
discourse, they both agreed on a certain day to receive the
blessed sacrament publicly; and appointed an eloquent and
devout friar to preach a sermon of contempt of the world,
and of the happiness and benefit of a quiet and contemplative
life; which the friar did most affectionately. After which
sermon, the Emperor took occasion to declare openly, " That
the preacher had begot in him a resolution to lay down his
dignities, and to forsake the world, and betake himself to a

LIFE OP GEORGE HERBERT

419

monastical life." And he pretended he had persuaded John
Valdesso to do the like: but this is most certain, that after
the Emperor had called his son Philip out of England, and
resigned to him all his kingdoms, that then the Emperor
and John Valdesso did perform their resolutions.

This account of John Valdesso I received from a friend,
that had it from the mouth of Mr, Farrer. And the reader
may note that in this retirement John Valdesso writ his
Hundred and Ten Considerations, and many other treatises
of worth, which want a second Mr. Farrer to procure and
translate them.

After this account of Mr. Farrer and John Valdesso, I
proceed to my account of Mr. Herbert and Mr. Duncon, who
according to his promise returned from Bath the fifth day,
and then found Mr. Herbert much weaker than he left him;
and therefore their discourse could not be long: but at Mr.
Duocon's parting with him, Mr. Herbert spoke to this pur-
pose: "Sir, I pray you give my brother Farrer an account
of the decaying condition of my body, and tell him I beg
him to continue his daily prayers for me; and let him know
that I have considered, that God only is what he would be;
and that I am, by his grace, become now so like him, as to
be pleased with what plcaseth him; and tell him, that I do
not repine but am pleased with my want of health : and tell
him, my heart is fixed on that place where true joy is only
to be found; and that I long to be there, and do wait for my
appointed change with hope and patience." Having said
this, he did, with so sweet a humility as seemed to exalt
him, bow down to Mr. Duncon, and with a thoughtful and
contented look, say to him, "Sir, I pray deliver this little
book to ray dear brother Farrer, and tell him he shall finj
in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed
betwixt God and my soul, before I could subject mine to
the will of Jesus my master: in whose service I have now
found perfect freedom. Desire him to read it; and then,
if he can think it may turn to the advantage of any de-
jected poor soul, let it be made public; if not, let him bunt
it; for I and it are less than the least of God's mercies."
Thus meanly did this humble man think of this excdient
book, which now bears the name of The Temple; or, Sacred

M IZAAK WALTON

Poems and Private Ejaculations; of which Mr. Farrer would
say, " There was in it the picture of a divine soul in every
page: and that the whole book was such a harmony of holy
passions, as would enrich the world with pleasure and piety."
And it appears to have done so; for there have been more
than twenty thousand of them sold since the hrst impression.
And this ought to be noted, that when Mr. Farrer sent
this book to Cambridge to be licensed for the press, the Vtce-
Chancellor would by no means allow the two so mnch noted
verses,

Retision stands a tiptoe in our land,
Ready to pass to the American strand.

to be printed ; and Mr, Farrer would by no means allovr the
book to be printed and want them. But after some time, and
some arguments for and against their being made public, the
Vice-Chancellor said, " I knew Mr. Herbert well, and know
that he had many heavenly speculations, and was a divine
poet: but I hope the world will not take him to he an in-
spired prophet, and therefore I license the whole book." So
that it came to be printed without the diminution or addition
of a syllable, since it was delivered into the hands of Mr.
Duncon, save only that Mr. Farrer hath added that excellent
preface that is printed before it.

At the time of Mr. Duncon's leaving Mr. Herbert, — which
was about three weeks before his death, — his old and dear
friend Mr. Woodnot came from London to Bemerton, and
never left him till he had seen him draw his last breath, and
closed his eyes on his death-bed. In this time of his decay,
he was often visited and prayed for by all the clergy that
lived near to him, especially by his friends the Bishop and
Prebends of the Cathedral Church in Salisbury ; but by none
.more devoutly than his wife, his three nieces, — then a part
of his family, — and Mr. Woodnot, who were the sad wit-
nesses of his daily decay; to whom he would often speak
to this purpose : " I now look back upon the pleasures of tny
life past, and see the content I have taken in beauty, in wit,
in music, and pleasant conversation, are now all past by me
mce a dream, or as a ^adow that returns not, and are now
all become dead to me, or I to them; and I sec, that as my
father and generation hath done before me, so I also shaU

LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT

4n

now suddenly (with Job) make my bed also in the dark; and
I praise God I am prepared for it; and I praise hira that I
am not to learn patience now I stand in such need of it; and
that I have practised mortification, qnd endeavoured to die
daily, that I might not die eternally; and my hope is, thai I
shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and be free from all
fevers and pain ; and, which will be a more happy condition,
I shall be free from sin, and all the temptations and anxieties
that attend it: and this being past, I shall dwell in the New
Jerusalem; dwell there with men made perfect; dwell where
these eyes shall see ray master and Saviour Jesus; and with
him sec my dear mother, and all ray relations and friends.
But 1 must die, or not come to that happy place. And this
is my content, that I am going daily towards it: and that
every day which I have lived, hath taken a part of my ap-
pointed time from me ; and that I shall live the less time, for
having lived this and the day past." These, and the like ex-
pressions, which he uttered often, may be said to he his
enjoyment of heaven before he enjoyed it. The Sunday be-
fore his death, he rose suddenly from his bed or couch, called
for one of his instruments, took it into his hand, and said, —

M; God, my God,

My maaie shall Gnd thee,

And every sfrioE
Shall have his attribute to aing.

And having tuned it, he played and sung —

The Sundays ot man's life.
Threaded together an lime's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the etemai glorious King :
On Sundays Heaven's door stands ope ;
Btessings are plentiful and rife.

More plentiful than hope.

Thus he sung on earth such hymns and anthems as the
angels, and he, and Mr. Farrer now sing in heaven.

Thus he continued meditating, and praying, and rejoicing,
till the day of his death ; and on that day said to Mr. Wood-
not, " My dear friend, I am sorry i have nothing to present
to my merciful God but sin and misery; but the first is par-

423

IZAAK WALTON-

cloned, and a few hours will now put a. period to the latter;
for 1 shall suddenly go hence, and be no more seen." Upon
which expression Mr. Woodnot took occasion to remember
him of the re-edifying Layton Church, and his many acts of
mercy. To which he made answer, saying, "They be good
(vorks. if they be sprinkled with the blood of Christ, and not
otherwise." After this discourse he became more restless,
and his soul seemed to be weary of her earthly tabernacle;
and this uneasiness became so visible, that his wife, his three
nieces, and Mr. Woodnot stood constantly about his bed, be-
holding him with sorrow, and an unwillingness to lose the
sight of him, whom they could not hope to see much longer.
As they slood thus beholding him. his wife observed him to
breathe faintly, and with much trouble, and observed him to
fall into a sudden agony ; which so surprised her. that she
fell into a sudden passion, and required of him to know how
he did. To which his answer was, "that he had passed a
conflict with his last enemy, and had overcome him by the
merits of his master Jesus." After which answer he looked
up, and saw his wife and nieces weeping to an extremity.
and charged them, if they loved him, to withdraw info the
next room, and there pray every one alone for hira; for noth-
ing but their lamentations could make his death uncomfort-
able. To which request their sighs and tears would not
suffer them to make any reply: but they yielded him a sad
obedience, leaving only with him Mr. Woodnot and Mr.
Eostock. Immcdialcly after they had left him, he said to Mr.
Bostock, " Pray, sir. open that door, then look into that cabi-
net, in which you may easily find my last will, and give it
into my hand"r which being done. Mr, Herbert delivered it
into the hand of Mr. Woodnot. and said, "My old friend, I
here deliver yoii my last will, in which you will find that I
have made you my sole executor for the good of my wife
and nieces ; and I desire you to show kindness to ihera. as
they shall need it: I do not desire yon lo be just: for I know
you will be so for your own sake; but I charge you, by the
religion of our friendship, to be careful of them." And
having obtained Mr. Woodnot's promise to be so, he said,
"I am now ready to die." .^fter which words he said,
" Ijard, forsake me not now my strength failelh me : but

OF GEORGEHBBBERT

423

grant me mercy for the merits of my Jesus. And now. Lord
— Lord, now receive my soul." And with those words he
breathed forth his divine soul, without any apparent dis-
turbance, Mr. Woodnot and Mr. Bostock attending his last
breath, and closing liis eyes.

Thus he lived, and thus he died, like a saint, unspotted of
the world, full of aims-deeds, full of humility, and all the
examples of a virtuous life; which I cannot conclnde better,
than with this borrowed observation:

— AJl must to their cold graves ;

But the retigious actions of Ihe just

Smell Bwect in death, and blossom in the dust.

rMr. George Herbert's have done so to this, and will doubt*
less do so to succeeding generations. I have but this to say
more of him: that if Andrew Melvin died before him, then
George Herbert died without an enemy. I wish— if God
shall be so pleased — that I may be so happy as to die like
him,
Iz. Wa.
There is a debt justly due to the memory of Mr. Herbert's
virtuous wife; a part of which I will endeavour to pay, by a
very short accotmt of the remainder of her life, which shall
follow.

She continued his disconsolate widow about six years, be-
moaning herself, and complaining, that she had lost the de-
light of her eyes; but more that she had lost the spiritual
guide for her poor soul ; and would often say, " O that I had,
like holy Mary, the mother of Jesus, treasured up all his
sayings in my heart ! But since I have not been able to do
that, I will labour to live like him, that where he now is I
may be also," And she would often say, — as the prophet
David -for his son Absalom, — " O that I had died for him ! "
Thus she continued mourning till time and conversation had
so moderated her sorrows, that she became the happy
wife of Sir Robert Cook, of Highnam, in the county of
Gloucester, Knight. And though he put a high value on the
excellent accomplishments of her mind and body, and was
BO like Mr. Herbert, as not to govern like a master, but aa

42C IZAAE WALTON

an a£F«ctionate husband; yet she would even to him often
take occasion to mention the name of Mr. George Herbert,
and say, that name must live in her memory till she put off
mortality. By Sir Robert she had only one child, a daughter,
whose parts and plentiful estate make her happy in this
world, and her well using of them gives a fair testimony
that she will be so in that which is to come.

Mrs. Herbert was the wife of Sir Robert eight years, and
lived his widow about fifteen; all which time she took a
pleasure in mentioning and commending the excellencies of
Mr. George Herbert. She died in the year 1663, and lies
buried at Hi^inam: Mr. Herbert in his own church, under
the altar, and covered with a gravestone without any in-
scription.

This Lady Cook had preserved many of Mr. Herbert's
private writings, which ^e intended to make public; but
they and Highnam House were burnt together by the late
rebels, and so lost to posterity. L W.

»««

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